Two Halves Of A Whole
by Lucigoosey The Lightbringer
Summary: "We're two halves of a whole, Georgie, don't you know that by now?"
1. Chapter 1

Staring at his own reflection in the mirror, George felt like he was suffocating. Or maybe even drowning, would be a better word for it. He could feel the water on his face, now that he thought about it, streaming down across his cheeks. But he could breathe, if only slightly, and when he did manage to get a few shaky gasps in, he could taste salt. But no water flooded his lungs, and he wasn't moving. It was like a mix of suffocating and drowning, but all he could do was stare into the mirror. His lower lip trembled, and if he cared enough to attempt to look closer, he'd see that it was tears, not water, that was pouring down his face. But he didn't care, and he didn't want to look closer. In fact, he didn't want to be looking at all, but he couldn't look _away_.

He gave a heavy blink, the split-second of darkness relieving, but when his eyes opened again he felt like he was going to just… break. Shatter. Fall apart right then and there. His tired gaze met the eyes, the same color his brother's had been. Flickered across the hair, the same color his brother's had been. Took in every feature, every expression. But it looked so wrong, too. Because he knew if his brother really were there, he wouldn't look so sad. He wouldn't be crying. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually seen his brother cry…

He sniffled slightly, trying to clear his nose so he could actually breathe through it normally, and finally brought a hand up to cover his eyes so he could turn his head away from the mirror. Unfortunately, this had him facing his brother's bed, still messy as ever and completely untouched, just the way that his brother had left it so long ago. For a moment, the sense of helplessness that engulfed him was enough to completely crush him. Shaking, he brought his hand back up, pressing it over his eyes and doubling over with a soft, shaky sigh. Not quite a sob, not loud enough or heavy enough to be considered one, but pretty damn close in George's opinion. That revelation was enough to force him back to reality, to at least try and ground himself, to compose himself.

Rubbing his thumb over both eyes in a desperate attempt to wipe away the tears, he straightened up and took in another deep, shaking breath, pushing himself back onto the bed. He wasn't okay. He knew that - hell, he told himself that daily, just to make sure that he, himself, didn't start believing that facade he put up for everyone else. He didn't _want _to believe he was okay. He didn't want to believe he was anything without… without him. More tears rushed to his eyes, turning his head, but keeping his hand over his eyes, not feeling able to look at anything in the room. Everything reminded George of him. And that wasn't okay.

His hand slid down to cover his mouth, though, when a soft sob broke through his lips. It was the first he had given since it had happened. As the sound left his lips, his heart gave another throb. He couldn't do _this_\- he couldn't go on, he couldn't keep pretending, he couldn't… he couldn't _live_ like this. He screwed his eyes shut and laid, shaking, in his bed, fighting back the rest of his sobs with whatever strength he had left. Sometimes, he didn't feel like he had any.

_Pull yourself together… _His thoughts trailed, having to choke back another sob as his brother's voice rang through his head. Well- it was _George's _voice, actually. But it was too similar… it might as well have been…

He couldn't even think to himself without his mind immediately turning in his brother's direction. He couldn't do anything without thinking of him. Because they did everything together. How were you supposed to move on from something like that? How were you supposed to be okay? How was he supposed to be okay, to move on, to just forget about his brother and act like everything was normal, and happy, and like he hadn't just had a part of him _ripped _away? Because that's what he was. His brother was his other half. Nothing would ever change that.

Never, in a million years, had George thought he and his brother would - _could _ever be separated. It was always just, _them_. Together. Making jokes, pulling pranks, having a laugh. Finishing each other's sentences, giggling and gossiping like schoolgirls, teasing their siblings mercilessly. It wasn't fair that that had ended. It wasn't fair that their bond had been severed. It wasn't fair that his brother had died.

It wasn't fair that it was him, and not George.

Daily, he wished, desperately, that it had been him, instead. Or both of them, at least. They should have gone together, just like they did everything else. But no, life was cruel, death was even worse. And it had been the one and only thing that could ever separate them. George hated that. Because he had never seen it coming, not in a thousand years. He always thought they'd go together… or not at all. Death wasn't even something George had _considered_.

He sighed and rubbed his face again, this time using his sleeve to rub across his entire face, honestly frustrated with himself now. Not for crying, but for not being able to stop once he started. He needed to learn how to compose himself at a split-second's notice. After all, you never knew when someone would just come barging into the room-

"George?"

\- like that.

George kept his arm covering his face for a good few seconds, not wanting to remove it so quickly, and have Ron see his face, still mostly covered in tears. He didn't want to speak, not because his voice would be choked up, but because every time he spoke, all he heard was the voice of his brother. He kept sentences to a minimum even now, only speaking when absolutely necessary, only joking when he had to, when the negativity got to be too much. He couldn't stand to see his family be as… not-okay as he felt.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat and pulled his arm down, rubbing his sleeve roughly across his face in one last attempt to rub the tears away. He blinked his eyes open, thankful that the first thing he laid eyes on was the ceiling. He turned his head faintly toward Ron, but he couldn't bring himself to actually look over at him yet, uncertain whether or not he was ready to face him at the moment, whether he was composed enough to do so.

Ron didn't say another word. He just shuffled on his feet in the doorway, quieter than ever, never quite looking in George's direction. He wondered, numbly, if it was just as hard for them to look at him as it was for him to look at his own reflection, to hear his own voice. He wondered if it was as hard for them as it was for him, because he couldn't imagine that. He couldn't imagine them feeling the way he did. As broken, and as lost, as he did.

George sucked in a breath and sat up, finally bringing his brother's gaze back to his face, and he reluctantly turned to look at him. Their gazes met briefly, no more than a few seconds, and Ron was the first one to look away, down at his shoes. "Dinner's ready. Mom wanted me to tell you, if you're hungry."

George considered just leaving it at a nod, but the guilt that flooded through him as his brother turned to leave kept him from staying silent. He couldn't do that to Ron, not when he was probably suffering, just as much as George was. Because _he _was Ron's brother, too. He ran his tongue over his lips, still tasting salt, and after bracing himself, he finally opened his mouth to speak. "Don't tell me it's chicken again?"

Ron stopped in his tracks and turned back to him. George met his gaze, lips twitching upwards into a grin, but Ron only stared for a few moments in silence. Finally, when George thought he was going to pull a… well, George… he spoke. "Uh, no. Turkey, this time."

"What is with that woman and birds…" George sighed, hoping to bring a smile to his brother's face. He didn't quite manage it, though Ron's lips twitched just the slightest bit as he shook his head and shrugged, simultaneously agreeing and saying he didn't have the slightest clue at the same time. George cleared his throat, ignoring the hollow feeling aching at his chest, and reluctantly pushed himself out of his bed. "I'll be down in a moment, I just have to use the little boy's room."

Ron gave him a look that clearly said _TMI _before he nodded and headed downstairs, and George let the smile drop as soon as his brother's back was turned. Merlin's beard, this was hopeless… He swallowed and shook his head, following Ron out of the room, but heading for the bathroom instead of going downstairs. He shut the door behind him quietly, letting his weight sink back against it for a good few moments. Tears rushed back to his eyes instantly, but at that point he hardly fought it. He was used to it, when he was alone, it was as if it were just instinctive now. So he let them come for the time being, let them brew and push - but he kept them from spilling. When it got close, he finally rubbed them away with his sleeve again and let his head fall back against the door, raising his eyes to the ceiling.

It was just dinner. He just had to eat, and smile, and joke and laugh and- and finish his own sentences and not have anybody to steal food from when he- when he finished his own, and… George faltered, giving up on trying to even turn his thoughts in a remotely positive direction. It wasn't any use, and he wasn't any good at it.

But he did have to get this done. Then he could curl up in his bed and cry again. That sounded like a good plan, and even better motivation.

He took two minutes, two, was all he needed, to compose himself. Rubbing every trace of his own tears from his face. Part of him wanted to check his reflection in the mirror just to make sure he looked decent, but as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he dismissed it. He had just finished wiping the tears away again, and he didn't think he had the strength to pull himself out of yet another emotional breakdown that night. He drew himself up and finally turned to leave the bathroom, faltering a bit at the top of the stairs but pushing himself forward anyway. Resigning himself to what he had to do, the smiles he had to force and the jokes he had to make, the laughter he had to fake.

The smile was on his face as he entered the kitchen, kicking his chair out and sitting down. For a moment, his gaze lingered on the empty chair beside his, but when he felt his smile slipping, he quickly turned away to pile food onto the plate in front of him, pretending his hands weren't shaking as he did so. His mother and father said nothing, and Ron's gaze was lingering on him in silence, but Ginny seemed rather preoccupied with what she was doing - which was, at the moment, scribbling something down on a piece of paper, her food untouched on the plate in front of her as she smiled to herself and continued writing.

A perfect opportunity, it would have been. But unnecessary. George kept his mouth shut and started eating in silence, refusing to look up and meet Ron's gaze for even a split second. It wouldn't be the first time one of them had walked in on him during or after a mental breakdown, but Ron seemed particularly stuck on it now. He'd have to double his jokes just to shake him.

"George-" His mother started, suddenly, only to stop and look down. George paused and looked up, taking his gaze off of his plate to look over at her, only just realizing the smile had dropped from his face while he was eating. He forced it back effortlessly, leaning back in his chair and turning his attention away from his food for the time being, thankfully enough, because he really wasn't even hungry right then in the first place.

"What is it, Mum?"

"Well…" His mother cleared her throat and finally looked up, something akin to sadness crossing her face, but George could see she was fighting it. "Well," she started, again, seeming a bit more certain of herself. "Ron and Harry are going to Diagon Alley tonight- aren't you, Ron?" She looked over at her youngest son, who gave an enthusiastic nod in response. George glanced at him, his gaze lingering for barely more than a second. "They're going to check on…"

"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," Ron spoke up, a little quieter. "And… some of the other shops. Ol- Ollivander's reopening, you know. And- well, we're just going… for old time's sake, and help a bit. The new first years are gonna need somewhere to shop, when… when Hogwarts…"

George felt like a rock had lodged in his throat by the time he managed to force himself to speak, his words sounding forced to his own ear. "Well, that's wonderful," he replied, finding it rather difficult to keep his voice light, at that point, but he wasn't going to be rude, he wasn't going to be snappish. "But, uh, why are you bringing this up to me, exactly?" He looked back over at his mother, who looked a little guilty now, as if she were about to ask George to do something impossible, or something.

"Well, George, I was wondering if you'd, possibly, like to go with them."

Ah. Well, she had.

His smile turned just a little bit strained and the silence that stretched seemed to grow even more tense by the second. It wasn't like she was asking him to go back to Hogwarts, where it had happened. But to Diagon Alley, where the shop was. The shop he had opened with his brother. The shop that had so many things, inside and outside, to remind him of _him_. No, that was impossible. George could hardly look around his room, hardly look at his own reflection in the mirror. He couldn't even hear his own voice, for Merlin's sake.

Reminding himself that his parents and siblings didn't know these things helped him not to snap at them right then. Being angry at them would be so easy, he knew that. But he couldn't seem to bring himself to turn it all on them, to project it all onto them. To take it out on them. The one he was angry at was himself.

Still, right then, he did want to snap.

"I'll pass," was all he could say for a good few seconds, trying not to flinch away when he saw his mother's face crumble. It took her a moment to compose herself again, and George had to look away, wondering if this is what it was like for them when they saw him bring himself back from the edge of an emotional breakdown, when he had to. If it was that painful for them to see. Or if it just hurt him because he couldn't stand to see any of his family unhappy, even now - especially now. He looked down at his plate, his appetite having completely been Avada Kedavra'd at that point.

"... Come on, George, it'll be fun," his father suddenly piped up, his mother seeming unable to speak now. "It'd be good for you to leave the Burrow, you know. You've been stuck here ever since-" He cut off abruptly, and George looked up just in time to see his mother extracting her elbow from his father's side, the man wincing as he rubbed the spot where his ribs were.

That same helplessness washed over him. If they knew how sensitive he was when it came to that particular subject, then why did he even bother pretending? He swallowed hard and shrugged at his father, managing to force the smile back to his face and giving him his usually cheeky look. "Oh, I'm sure. I just don't want to impose on their date."

Both Ron and Ginny looked over at him at that, equal amounts of indignation on their faces. George's grin widened, almost on instinct, though not really feeling the humor.

"It's not a _date_," Ron spoke up, glaring.

"It had better not be, at least," Ginny added, with a glare in Ron's direction, and Ron's eyes narrowed even further, this time at his sister.

"Oh, well- …" He stopped for a second, purposefully, and he felt his heart jump straight into his throat when he did, a cold rush like a plunge into icy water washing straight over him, stealing his breath away completely, as he realized why, exactly, he had stopped his own sentence, and what he had expected to come when he did. He quieted down instantly, the smile almost faltering from his face, but he kept it firmly in place and refused to acknowledge the pained expressions on their faces when they, too, finally realized what George had been intending.

Silence fell over all of them for a long time before anybody could speak after that. Of course, it was their mother, reaching forward across the table to place her hand over George's. "It… it would mean a lot to me, dear, if you would please…" She said softly, and after catching her gaze, he didn't have it in him to disagree again.

As much as it would hurt. If there was even the slightest chance it would bring her some peace of mind, some relief, than so be it. "Alright, Mum."

His mother squeezed his hand, and the pained, stressed expression on her face brightened considerably. She didn't quite smile, and she didn't look any less tired than she had before, but she didn't look like she was on the verge of tears anymore. He squeezed her hand back slightly before pulling it away and turning back to his food in silence, continuing to eat once more despite feeling like he just might throw it all up at once.

And, after dinner, in the bathroom, when he was alone, he did just that.

* * *

_I'm not ready…_

George was left, pacing, in his room, hearing Harry, his mother and Ginny talking downstairs. It was only a matter of time before Ron and Harry would come up to get him so they could apparate straight to Diagon Alley - or, hell, possibly straight into the shop, itself. He held his hand pressed over his mouth, fingernails digging lightly into his skin as he shook his head back and forth at himself. He could still remember the last time he had stood in that damn shop, side by side with his brother, and both of them grinning ear to ear. As they always were when they were together. It had been his and his brother's thing only.

How, how could he be expected to keep it going after what had happened? How could they expect that of him- how could he expect that of himself? How could he agree to go back? He wrapped his arms around himself, biting down on his lip and faltering to a complete stop as he dropped his gaze to the floor, the only thing he could really stand to look at in his own room. Tears blurred his vision again. The thought of going back there, without him, was too much. He had been trying not to think about it, but now there wasn't much else to think about. They would be leaving within minutes, and George couldn't just abruptly bail out on them.

Or, well, maybe he could, but that would be rude… and he'd told his mother he would go. But jeez, he wished he had a bit more time to prepare himself. He certainly wasn't prepared for this. It was too soon. Then again, he knew, it would always be too soon. He would never get over what had happened, and he didn't expect to, again, he didn't want to. But he didn't want to make it any worse on himself, and he didn't want to make it any harder to pretend he was okay, either… Merlin, when did this get so bloody complicated?

Actually, don't answer that. He knew when. And he was so damn tired of thinking about it.

He turned to sink back onto his bed, only to pause, seeing Ron, once more, in the doorway. He had his hand raised as if to knock on the already-opened door, but he paused when he saw George had already turned, noticing his presence. He couldn't seem to bring himself to look directly at George, now, and as much as he would have liked to feel irritated, he understood. "We're leaving in a few minutes…" He trailed off. "George, I just want you to know- I didn't suggest- It was Mom's idea for you to come along…"

George shook his head a little, almost to himself, and paused to brace himself again before he spoke. "Psh, rubbish, Ron. Don't care whose idea it was, you know that. Besides, you heard Dad, it'll be fun. Getting out of the house." He smirked, holding his arms out slightly. "We can't all be hermits, Ronald. Not like Ginny."

Ron stared at him exasperatedly, looking like he wanted to say something, anything. Hell, looking almost _desperate_ to. George's jokes seemed to have the opposite effect on him than George had been intending, which gave him pause for a good few seconds, wondering why he couldn't even get a smile out of his younger brother. Was he just that pathetic now, without _him? _Was he really nothing, without him?

… Honestly, maybe he was.

"Look…" Ron finally spoke again, looking a little resigned now. "We don't have to go to that- particular- shop, if you don't want to. In fact, we can just go somewhere else and tell Mom-"

"Ron- Ron," George interrupted quickly, and Ron paused with his mouth still open, stumbling over his own words as if unable to bring himself to a complete stop while George spoke. "Why _wouldn't _I want to go?"

The look Ron gave him made him feel like he was about as tall as a house elf. Like he knew why - or at least, why he should. Well, yes, for your information, Ron, George did very well know why he wouldn't want to go to _that particular shop_, but he was doing his damn best to get over that at least for the night, thank you very much. But then again George was starting to get the feeling that Ron had figured out a lot more than George had originally expected him to. Which certainly didn't settle well with him, at all. And to think, he thought he was a good actor.

"You know why, George…" Ron trailed off and turned his head, and George looked up as well. Ron must have heard something he hadn't - go figure, right? - because he stepped back and, barely half a second later, Harry appeared in the doorway with a slightly goofy smile on his face and his glasses crooked. George didn't have to ask to know he and Ginny had just been snogging downstairs, and Ron, seeming incredibly amused, reached over to adjust the boy's glasses for him with a very small snicker. George fought back a twinge of pain, at the fact that recently he couldn't seem to get a single smile out of his brother, while Harry managed to do so without even trying to. And George called himself a comedian.

"Ready to go?" Harry asked, breathlessly, leaning away from Ron and reaching up to adjust his glasses himself. Ron snorted a little, but his smile faded a bit as he looked back at George, as if expecting to see something other than the forced smile that he usually had. But he just continued grinning, forced as it was, strained as it was, and took a few steps toward both of them, extending a hand.

"To Diagon Alley."

Harry put his hand over George's at once and, after a bit of hesitation, Ron followed suit. George closed his eyes, forcing every other thought to a complete stop to concentrate on where they were going. Diagon Alley. Diagon Alley. Yes, he didn't completely want to go there, not really, but it was where they were going, so… _Diagon Alley_.

George felt like he might be sick again, upon arrival. Not because of the apparition, but because the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was the shop. His brother's face - his face - right in front. The lights inside were off, the sign on the door flipped to _CLOSED _as it had been for so long now… but possibly the worst thing was the painting on the door. Him and his brother, side by side, arms wrapped around each other's shoulders and waving enthusiastically with huge smiles on their faces.

George's breath caught in his throat with a horrible, sharp, audible gasp, and both Harry and Ron turned to him at once. Ron looked as if he had expected this to happen the entire time, but Harry looked completely guilty, as if the entire thing was his fault.

George didn't really look at either of them, unable to tear his gaze away from the painting. He had completely avoided looking at any of his brother at home, turning them all around on the walls in his room and absolutely refusing to look at the walls in the other rooms. But he couldn't look away now, he couldn't force himself to turn his gaze away from his brother. Because that was him - that was _him_, and he was right there, smiling brighter than ever, looking right at him. He stopped waving, though, focusing only on him. George didn't think it could get any worse.

"_Hey, Georgie!"_

He was wrong.

Hearing that almost sent him over the edge. He never thought he'd hear that voice again, without opening his own mouth, he never thought he'd see that genuine smile again, or hear his brother greet him in that way. Tears rushed to his eyes at once, but the painting never stopped smiling. It was different from looking in the mirror at home. It only - heh - mirrored his own actions. This was truly his brother, or at least, something like him, something so much more genuine than George had been able to muster since…

George felt almost hysterical now, about ready to break down into tears at any second. A hand on his shoulder, though, reminded him quickly that he wasn't alone. He couldn't take his gaze off of the painting yet, but his head did turn in Ron's direction for barely a second, as his brother gave a small tug to pull him away. "George… come on, this was a bad idea… let's go… let's go to Ollivander's first, alright? And you can stay there while we look inside here…"

George swallowed. He couldn't move. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to. He could only stare at the painting, wanting to respond, to say something to him, anything, but he _couldn't_. Another rush of tears formed, and he blinked them back faster than the last, not wanting his brother to blur out of sight just yet.

And then he heard Ron say "George" again, and his voice cracked that time, sounding pretty damn close to tears, himself. That was enough for George to tear his gaze away, looking back at his younger brother. Ron looked exhausted, but more than that, he looked desperate. He hadn't even looked in the painting's direction once, and his hand was shaking on George's shoulder. He felt a rush of guilt, at once; He was supposed to be the big brother here, protecting Ron from this sort of thing. Great job he was doing.

Swallowing, he wrapped an arm around Ron's shoulders, resisting the urge to look back at the painting as he turned them both around. "Ollivander's, yeah?" He asked, a little more shakily than he would have liked, but trying more than anything to keep up his cheerful facade for his brother. Ron threw him another exasperated look and glanced behind them, where Harry had finally turned away from the painting, himself, to follow. "Let's go, then. Off to see the wizard!"

None of them laughed, not even George, as he led his brother away. But he did manage to bring a small, barely noticeable smile to Ron's face. And that was enough of an accomplishment.


	2. Chapter 2

Being alone in the wand shop was much better.

When he had convinced Ron and Harry he was okay enough for them to go ahead, and leave him behind, he broke down even harder than he ever had. He couldn't get his voice out of his head now, he couldn't get the words out of his head. He couldn't stop thinking about him, his face, his smile. And he couldn't stop thinking about that night, the way he had looked just lying there, motionless, bloody, _with the ghost of his last laugh etched upon his face_.

That painting had opened up a whole new tidal wave of emotions. A sob broke through his lips, despite his best attempts to fight it, as he pressed both hands against his mouth this time and screwed his eyes shut. This wasn't okay - hell, this was more than just not okay. He couldn't remember ever having expected, himself, that he could get over it, that he could move on. But somewhere along the line he must have accidentally started fooling himself, that he could ever be okay again without his brother by his side, because it felt like everything he had ever believed, or dreamed of, or hoped for, had been completely crushed in that moment.

He didn't want to be okay.

But just for a second, just one damn second, he wished he could stop _hurting_. At least, stop hurting _this _badly. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, raising one hand from his mouth to rub at his eyes. Sometimes, he guessed, he did manage to fool himself into believing he was alright. Which made it even harder when he slowly, steadily, began to realize he wasn't again.

Because he wasn't. His family knew it, he knew it, his brother would know it if he were there - or, no, he wouldn't. Because if he were there, George _would _be okay.

It was moments like this where the hole in his heart seemed to grow bigger, and the pain that came from it seemed to grow stronger, and it felt, literally, like a part of him, inside of him, had actually been ripped out. Because it might as well have - it might as well have been some vital organ, or, hell, the most vital one of all, his heart, because it felt like he had lost everything else the night he had lost his other half. His twin. His best friend. His brother.

And thinking about it wasn't going to help his tears.

Knowing he couldn't risk being caught in another emotional breakdown that day, he rubbed the tears from his eyes again, and, for good measure, rubbed his entire hand over his whole face a few times just to be sure. There had to be something he could do, around Diagon Alley, that wouldn't remind him of his brother. Something there they hadn't done together yet.

… Well, there was. But George wasn't sure how he felt about it.

What he _was_ sure about, however, was getting out of Ollivander's. He wasn't sure how long it would be until Harry and Ron got back, and frankly George wasn't too keen on just sitting there crying while he waited for them, either. If they needed to find him, they would, and vice versa. But surely they would understand that he couldn't just stay cooped up in one place. He could blame it on his amazingly boundless energy and his need to go and explore, rather than tell them that he was saving himself from a complete mental breakdown.

Sounded like a good plan. He pushed himself to stand, rubbing his nose with the sleeve of his shirt before rubbing his eyes with his other hand, using his thumb to rub away the tears he could feel. He wasn't exactly keen on looking at his reflection in the mirror right then, not after what had happened earlier, because he knew it would break him more than usual.

George sighed and headed out. He felt no relief when he left the dark, abandoned shop, no satisfaction at all. Just the same hollow, painful feeling as before. He tried to swallow, his throat constricting as he did so, and it took a good few seconds for him to actually be able to. He faltered for a second, but continued on, rubbing his hand over his eyes one last time before dropping both arms to his sides and continuing on his way.

And, upon realizing he was heading in the direction of _that _particular shop, he turned back and headed the other way instead.

He continued on, his eyes feeling heavy, though he wasn't quite tired. Come to think of it, he didn't really get tired anymore. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept. Every time he shut his eyes to sleep, he either dreamed about his brother or had a nightmare about his brother. And, to be honest, the dreams were worse. The good ones. Where they laughed, like old times, and smiled, and finished each other's sentences, and goofed around. And then George woke, feeling more hollow than ever, knowing that he was never going to have that with his brother again. That alone made the dreams more terrifying than the nightmares.

He let out a heavy sigh, swallowed again, and forced himself to look through one of the windows of the shops. It was a bookstore, surprisingly unharmed from Voldemort's apparent rampage through Diagon Alley, but George had never been too interested in books, so he turned to continue on. Only to pause and turn back upon realizing someone was inside - a familiar someone, actually, nobody could be that huge except…

Hagrid turned, large book in hand, and paused slightly, spotting him through the window. George felt his heart sink even lower as a huge grin lit the wizard's face, raising a hand to wave at him and beckon him inside. He really didn't feel up to putting his smile back on right then, but he knew it would just be rude to turn and leave when Hagrid had already seen him. And he certainly wasn't going to be a debbie downer the entire time, either.

So he took a second, or two, and composed himself before heading inside. "Mr. Hagrid," he greeted cheerfully, putting a grin on his face that could easily match Hagrid's optimism, despite not quite feeling it at the moment. "It's good to see you! What're you doing here?"

"Oh, ya know. Jus' takin' a look around, fer old time's sake," Hagrid replied, waving a hand dismissively. He put the book down and walked forward, George's heart sinking even more at the realization of what was to come, but he didn't have any time to react or protest before Hagrid had grabbed him and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, squeezing slightly for good measure as if to make sure there were no ribs left in his body that hadn't been completely smashed into powder. "It's good ter see ya too, boy!"

George huffed out a mirthless laugh, for a split second honestly wondering if this was going to kill him, and why the thought of it doing so even remotely gave him a small twinge of hope, the hope he hadn't felt in a long time, the hope that had died along with his brother. Even the revelation didn't quite scare him as it should have- if anything, it just left him wondering if that's really what he even wanted. He certainly had a lot more to think about than before.

Hagrid pulled back, and George reminded to put his smile back in place just in time. "How's yer mother? And yer dad? Aw, gee, how are all of 'em? Any of 'em with ya?"

George shook his head a little and leaned back with a grin, crossing his arms behind his bed. "Yeah, Ron is. He's with Harry, down at-" He stopped for a second, breath hitching, unsure whether or not he could continue, whether or not he could say the name of the shop, himself. He took in a breath and looked away for a moment. Now would be a wonderful time to have his brother there to finish his sentences. George didn't want to do it himself. Not now. Not after all this time. "-Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Helping with repairs."

"Oh, good. That's good." Hagrid beamed at him, reaching down again to pick the book back up. "S'a good kid, yer brother, ya know. Real good kid." George merely nodded, because, of course, he knew that. He knew what a good kid Ron was. Just, a part of him didn't want to hear it right then. He didn't want to be _talking _to Hagrid right then, because he knew it was only a matter of time before- "Hey, where's Fred?"

Shit, that hurt.

No amount of strength could have kept the smile on his face right then. No amount of acting could have kept the tears from his eyes. Hearing his name made it even worse. Because up until that moment, since the night it had happened, George had been especially careful - too careful - not to think his name directly. And it wasn't like his family was exactly keen on talking about him, either. He blinked a few times and closed his eyes, raising a hand to rub his thumb across both of them, clearing the tears that had begun to brew up in the corners.

Luckily, no explanation was necessary. George didn't think he could force himself to speak right then, anyway. But Hagrid seemed to realize it, to remember it, a little too late, and George watched with growing despair as the grin on his face fell, his face crumbling and his entire demeanor changing at once. "I…" His voice wavered slightly. "Ah, George, I didn'... It totally slipped my mind… m'so sorry…"

As mad as George wanted to be, Hagrid looked closer to bursting into tears than George was. With a bit of a struggle, he managed to pull himself together, for the most part. Enough to force the corners of his lips up into a very faint, very forced smile, his entire body almost completely shaking with the effort that it took to do just that. Speaking was even worse than he'd thought it would be, like something had lodged in his throat - and that is what it felt like, mind you - and it just wasn't budging this time. "No. It's okay, Hagrid."

Hagrid just shook his head, fumbling for something in his pocket. George just let out a low sigh and looked away as he pulled a handkerchief out, blowing his nose into it loudly. If he had really been feeling up to it, George probably would have made some joke about a trumpet. But he wasn't, and nobody needed to hear his pathetic attempts right now, so he just ducked his head and fixed his gaze on the floor until Hagrid had composed himself.

"I'm sorry, boy," Hagrid finally spoke, sniffling a little still, as he raised a hand to rub at his eyes. "Can' imagine…" He looked at George helplessly, like he was trying to think of something to say, or maybe he already knew what he wanted to say, but he just… couldn't. George knew what that felt like, to be honest. But the way Hagrid looked now, George was beginning to think he was more sensitive to this whole thing than even George was.

"Yeah…" George trailed off, feeling a little helpless, himself, for a few moments. He really wanted to get out of there, but he didn't want to be rude about it, either. He turned his head, sparing a quick glance out the window - it was getting dark, slowly but surely - and he felt an odd sense of relief at the chance to be alone again. Maybe he'd just go back to Ollivander's or something and wait for Ron and Harry. Maybe being alone and on the verge of breaking down was better than _this_, at least, than being reminded even further of…

George exhaled, pressing his eyes shut tight for a moment as he felt the familiar burn, honestly surprised at that point that he had any tears left. "Uh… listen." He cleared his throat and looked up again, offering Hagrid a small smile. "I- I'm not sure when I'm supposed to be meeting Harry and Ron again, so… I should probably get back before they think I ditched 'em and just went home, huh?" He shifted slightly where he stood, rubbing his hand over his mouth.

"Oh- Yeah, yeah, o' course!" Hagrid waved a hand, the other one still fumbling nervously with the handkerchief. "O' course, go ahead, I won' keep ya… Tell Ron and Harry I said hi for me, would ya?" He looked at George hopefully, eyes wide as if he was expecting George to actually disagree with that. The man shook his head a little bit, mostly at himself, forcing his smile to widen in response.

"Of course, Mr. Hagrid." He took a few steps back, aching to just leave already. He raised a hand slightly to wave, the other one reaching backwards to push the door open. "See you later, alright?" He didn't wait for a response, turning to leave at once, and allowing the door to swing shut behind him. The second - the actual _second _he was outside again, alone, the tears immediately forced their way back to his eyes. He gave them no time to spill before he started walking again, raising a hand to rub at his eyes instantly, feeling more and more numb to it by the second. This was _ridiculous_. Honestly. He'd lock himself in his room, at that point, just to avoid interacting with anyone else, if it didn't mean he'd be stuck in the place that reminded him of his brother the most, and in, possibly, the worst way.

Well, he could think of one place that would be much worse, but he had absolutely no plans of going back there. Not _ever _again.

He faltered to a stop and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, fingers digging into the corners of his eyes as he sucked in a shaky breath and held it. He could feel his heart pounding harder than ever, funnily enough, faster than he even thought it could go. And every beat hurt like hell.

Merlin's beard, this was too much.

He took a minute- or two- or five, to compose himself again, not really sure who he was doing it for at that point, since he was alone now. Maybe he had just finally gotten sick of crying all the time. It was starting to hurt, more than just emotionally. George sighed, pressing his hand to his mouth again, and finally lifted his head. He knew his way around Diagon Alley by heart, but right then he felt more lost than ever, in more ways than one.

For a moment, he allowed his gaze to trail around. Hagrid was the only one in Diagon Alley besides himself, Harry, and Ron. The entire place was deserted. Most of the shops had busted windows, doors ripped out, hell, roofs torn right up. To be honest, looking around now sent chills down his spine. It used to be so bright and full of life, a place welcome to all witches and wizards, one of the most cheerful places George had ever seen… and now it looked as broken as George felt.

How could one wizard… with an army of absolute _gits_… cause _this _much damage?

He wrapped his arms around himself, looking down for a moment as he started walking. So many innocents had been caught in the crossfire, so many amazing places destroyed. He didn't even want to think about what Hogwarts might look like, now. He didn't ever want to go _back _there. Hell, he hadn't wanted to come here. But now it was like the choice just wasn't his to make anymore. No matter what he did, he had to keep pretending. No matter the cost, no matter the pain. No matter what it did to him, or how much it killed him inside.

Sometimes he wished he had been caught in the crossfire, too.

Oh, who was he kidding- he wished it all the time. But he hadn't been, and he was alive, and he had to deal with that. It wasn't like he was going to take matters into his own hands. It wasn't like he was going to end his own life. However he might feel, however broken he might be, he would never do that to his family. He didn't think they could take another loss. And he didn't want them to have to deal with it. George would never be okay - he _could _never be okay.

But that _was _okay. Because he didn't need to be okay, as long as they were.

He shut his eyes for a moment, only remembering to blink them open half a second before he almost walked straight into a building. Pausing, he took a few steps back, sucked in a deep breath, and let it out slowly before taking a turn, heading down toward another row of buildings. He frowned for a moment, getting the slight feeling that maybe he should turn back and go the other way, but he shook it off. It was probably nothing, the whole place unnerved him anyway. So he kept walking, dropping his arms to his sides and stuffing one of his hands into his pocket.

He continued to walk, quiet as ever, keeping his thoughts to a minimum, trying not to hear his own voice in his head. Passed a few more buildings that made him want to turn back, something tugging just vaguely at his mind, some kind of reminder he wouldn't dwell on for too long. Shaking his head at himself, he continued on, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Finally, faltering a stop, he realized what exactly he'd been trying to tell himself.

* * *

His tired eyes roamed for a moment before locking onto a pair, identical to his own, feeling his heart practically shrivel up as he watched a beaming smile cross the face of the man in the painting, the man he subconsciously identified as his brother. But it wasn't really him, it couldn't really be him, because he'd seen a smile like that on his face before and he'd known then and there it would be the last one he would ever see, because his brother was dead.

"_George," _the painting called, clearly, cheerful as ever and offering him the mischievous grin that George only just realized he'd missed more than ever. His chest gave a powerful ache, tears slowly springing back to his eyes as he shook his head and dropped his gaze, screwing his eyes shut as tight as possible. No, he couldn't do this. This wasn't his brother, and he was very well aware of that. He needed to turn around and walk away.

"_It's good to see you! Y'know it's been rather lonely around here? Not much to do, you know. Why haven't you been around?"_

George swallowed and lifted his head again, letting it fall back slightly on his shoulder, giving the painting a resigned, pained look. The smile didn't disappear, but it faded slightly - which brought an even more painful sensation to his chest, the familiar ache he felt when he looked at the rest of his family, the desperation and need to bring the smile back to their faces. But he couldn't. Not for this one. He just didn't know how anymore.

"_George? … Are you alright?"_

George let out a choked laugh, startled, and immediately raised a hand to cover his mouth. By now, the smile on his br- no, the _painting's_, face had fallen completely, a completely concerned look etched upon the carefully detailed features. George felt nearly hysterical then, completely despaired. It would be smart to turn and walk away, but George couldn't bring himself to turn away from him… not now… not after all that time…

_But it's not him, it's not him, _he pleaded with himself, a last-ditch attempt to spare himself from the inevitable, the worst pain he could imagine. Thinking he had him back, when he really didn't. It was no different from his dreams, waking up to figure out, to remember, that he'd never gotten him back in the first place. He didn't have him to lose.

"I can't…" He finally managed, his voice barely more than a whisper, and the painting's face twisted slightly in confusion. Either unable to hear him, or confused as to what he meant. Because this wasn't his brother - it wasn't alive and it couldn't think like he used to, it couldn't think like it was _sentient_ or _real_. It was something his brother had enchanted, but it wasn't him. He swallowed hard, forcing back the lump that had risen to his throat, and finally managed to force himself to take a few steps back.

"_George- Wait, don't leave," _the painting pleaded, and George shook a little bit, aching, at hearing that tone. It made it even worse, even harder, to turn his back. But if he had any hope - _hah, hope, what a funny choice of words _\- of keeping _some _sanity, he had to.

"I'm sorry…" George breathed, taking a few more steps back. The painting looked at him helplessly, and honestly, that cut George deeper than anything else could. Because that was an expression that should never have been on his face. It was an emotion George could have lived without seeing in his eyes.

He flinched a little, feeling the tears beginning to streak down his face, and he immediately brought a hand up to rub them away. "I'm sorry…" He repeated, his voice breaking this time, as he screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to seal the rest of his tears away.

"_Georgie…"_

"George?"

Oh, thank Merlin.

… _No, scratch that. _George rubbed his arm across his face roughly, not really wanting to look up now, but he didn't have much of a choice. Before he could really do anything, there was a hand on his wrist, pulling his arm down. And he was face to face with his youngest brother.

Ron stared at him for a moment, understanding flickering clearly through his eyes, then turned his head to look back at the door, which was only just starting to swing shut as Harry followed after Ron at a much slower pace. He took one look at George, and that same guilty expression flickered across his face, dropping his eyes to the ground and coming to a complete stop several feet away from the both of them. George just shook his head and pulled away from Ron, rubbing his arm across his face one last time and taking a deep breath, holding it for a long moment.

"Didn't interrupt anything, did I?" He tried for his usual cheeky smile, and Ron's expression flashed from concerned, to exasperated, to just downright _done_. He gave George an almost flat look, but he didn't say anything, merely turned his head away and closed his eyes for a few seconds. George faltered and looked down for a moment, clearing his throat. "I think I'm going to head back early, Ron. A bit tired, you know."

The understanding look was back on Ron's face, and he gave a tired nod, running his fingers through his hair. "Alright, George. Tell Mum that Harry and I'll probably be here for a few hours more. The shop is-" He cut off, holding George's gaze for only a second before he looked away again. "Well, just tell her."

"'Kay," George sighed, swallowed, and forced another smile. "See you tomorrow, then. Bye, Harry, have fun snogging my brother." At that, a confused look crossed Harry's face, and the same indignant one from earlier was back on Ron's. But George apparated the hell out of there before either of them could get a decent word in, not really in the mood for a lecture from Ron at the moment.

He should have been relieved to be back in his room, but he wasn't.

His gaze flickered around without his permission, hesitating just briefly on the mirror. He looked exhausted, even to his own eyes, noting the tears stained on his cheeks that he hadn't been able to rub away before. He didn't really bother with them now, since he was alone for the moment. That revelation should have been relieving, too. But it wasn't.

George sighed, his gaze lingering on his reflection for a long time. Then, summoning the little bit of strength he had left for the night, he walked forward and slowly picked it up, unhooking it from its place against the wall. Averting his gaze, he turned it around so that the back was facing the rest of the room, and set it down on the floor once more, careful and quiet.

With no great satisfaction, no real relief, he turned and walked back over to his bed, falling back into it silently. The tension drained from him completely the moment he hit the mattress, shifting around slightly to stretch out on his stomach, and burying his face into the pillow. After a long moment, he let his eyes flutter shut. Not really intending to sleep, knowing what would come if he did. Just wanting to lay there in the darkness, awake, and not move again until he had to.


	3. Chapter 3

"_Hey, Fred?"_

_Fred's head turned at once, a smile lighting his face as he locked his gaze with his brother's. George grinned back without hesitation, pushing himself back and forth on the swing and watching their father as he disappeared in and out of the cornfield. After a few moments, Fred got up from his place on the ground, dusting dirt off his pants and running over to his twin. George squealed slightly as his brother grabbed the swing, pulling it back a little and letting go._

"_Fred- No-!"_

"_What's wrong, Georgie?" Fred giggled, grabbing the swing as it fell back toward him, and George let out a gasp as he was pulled to a stop. He started laughing along with his brother when Fred pulled him back, wrapping his arms around his neck from behind and ruffling his hair. "You scared of heights?"_

"_Oh, you know I'm not, Fred," George huffed, sticking his tongue out and pushing Fred away from him. "I wouldn't be on the swing if I was scared of it, would I?"_

"_I dunno." Fred shrugged, grabbing one of the ropes on the swing and looking up, squinting, as if judging how high the whole thing was. "I think you do a lot of stuff you're scared to do. Like…" He smirked, mischievously, and spared his brother a playful look. "Eating chocolate frogs."_

_George blinked at him, puffing his cheeks out slightly, an indignant look crossing his face. "I am not scared of eating chocolate frogs, Fred." His brother gave him a disbelieving look, and George twisted on the swing to face him. "Hey, I'm not! I just-"_

"_-don't like the way they wriggle when they go down." Fred joined in with an amused smile as George spoke, completely and perfectly in sync, and George couldn't help but let out a small laugh despite himself. The best part about that was that it was the first time he had admitted that. It wasn't as if he repeated it daily to his brother; but he had known, just as easily._

"_Why do you do that so much- What are you-"_

_Fred had jumped up, one hand on the rope of the swing, and the other reaching up to grab for the top bar. George leaned to the side, watching him in alarm as he struggled to pull himself up. "I don't do it myself, you know, it's the both of us." Fred looked down at him and smiled. "We're two halves of a whole, Georgie, don't you know that by now?"_

_George's lips twitched despite himself, breaking into a grin at once, and he shook his head a little bit. "Y'know how corny you are sometimes, Fred?"_

"_Sure." Fred shrugged a little and looked up, raised his eyebrows, and looked back down at George. His grin widened, almost sheepish, as he raised his eyebrows even further and shrugged again. "... Georgie?"_

"_You need help."_

"_I need help."_

* * *

_We're two halves of a whole, Georgie, don't you know that by now?_

For Fred, all of it felt like too long ago.

He let the memories come and go, never fighting, never repressing. In fact, honestly, he practically thrived on them now. Thinking of his brother was the only thing that kept him remotely sane there - Merlin knows he'd go crazy with the… er… _company_… he had… - and there wasn't exactly anyone to prank nowadays. Even picking on Filch got boring after a while. Besides, if he tried anything too "extreme" or "dangerous" (basically anything he did when he was alive), the damn Bloody Baron would be right there to stop him. And Peeves wasn't exactly much help in that situation… Or in _any situation…_

There was one good thing about it, though. One thing he enjoyed. One thing that made even being dead completely worthwhile. One thing he'd wanted to do his _entire life_, and, dare I say… might even have made dying just a _liiiiittle _bit worth it.

_Fred Weasley can walk through fucking walls now, bitches._

He'd had a blast the first few weeks. Popping out at random times and scaring the shit out of Filch was one of his favorite hobbies. He could also fly - without a _broom_, how sick was that?! - let's see, float upside down, go _invisible_… honestly, it was almost _endless_. And Fred, of course, being the optimist he was, did his best to look at the bright side of every situation. Even this situation. Because this situation had a lot of cool perks that he was very excited to try out.

… for the first few weeks.

Again, it got boring. Scaring Filch wasn't cutting it for him anymore, and the only one who really came by the school now was… well… McGonagall. And Fred wasn't touching that shit. She was scary when he was alive, she was scary when he was dead. And, honestly, Fred didn't want anyone else to see him. Filch was an exception only because he took immense pleasure out of making his life a living hell. But otherwise, Fred wanted to keep everything on the DL, just until George finally came by.

Which, he slowly began to realize, wasn't happening anytime soon.

Look, he'd admit, he expected the guy to at least come by to help with repairs. But day after day, no George. Even when the volunteers finally started streaming in, _no George._ Hell, nobody from his family was there. Not even Ron. Not Ginny. He was starting to wonder if they'd all just forgotten about Hogwarts.

_But that can't be right, yeah? I mean, they all love the place. George loves the place! _Fred sighed, sticking his arm through a wall and pulling it back out slowly, a small grin forming on his lips as he did so. _It's only a matter of time, right? He'll be here. He's probably just… busy. With what… I don't know… Georgie doesn't really have anything to do, does he? Well, he's got the shop. And he better be taking care of it…_

His thoughts trailed for a moment, distracted enough to drop both arms to his sides, a small frown replacing the smile for a moment. As much fun as he'd been having as a ghost, he had to admit, he missed his brother. Every so often at the beginning, after scaring Filch, he'd turn slightly as if his brother would be beside him, grinning and laughing just as he was. Every so often, when he was talking to Peeves, he'd stop, abruptly, as if expecting someone else to speak up, finish the sentence for him.

But that was okay! Sure, he missed George, and George probably missed him - or maybe he was glad to have the room to himself, the little bastard - but he'd see him again, right? George would be back at Hogwarts in no time, and once that happened, Fred would finally reveal himself. He planned on scaring the absolute shit out of George in the process, too. All in good fun, of course. Then it would be just like old times.

"Yeah," he mumbled to himself, lifting a hand slightly to stare at it - or, rather, through it - before dropping it again. "... Just like old times."

Fred sighed and turned, hovering in the air for a moment before looking down at the floor. Then, with a small hum, he allowed himself to drop. A slight squeal broke through his lips as he fell straight through the floor, breathless laughter bursting from him, and he barely stopped himself on time before he could completely plunge straight into the dungeons. He had all of Hogwarts at his disposal - there was nowhere he couldn't go (not that there was really anywhere he couldn't go when he was alive, either). And what he wanted, more than anything, was to be able to share that with his brother. There was only one slight problem to that, though. George would have to be dead for that to work.

Honestly, the thought of that kind of freaked him out. Yes, they'd be together again, but… George and _dead _didn't exactly settle well with Fred when they were used in the same sentence. And honestly, for a long time after he had died, Fred remembered just floating aimlessly through the castle and thinking _what if it had been George that died, instead of me?_

It was a more terrifying thought than Fred would like to admit, but he never let that show. Not that there was really anybody around to see - nobody who would care, not really - but Fred wasn't about to let any of this get him down. He had an entirely new opportunity here, an amazing _experience_.

"A… _once-in-a-lifetime _experience," Fred laughed as he pushed himself back up, spiraling through the air, and pulled himself right back through the ceiling with a grin. "Good one, Freddie, good one… Ah, comedy."

He sighed and dove back down, not laughing this time as he dropped back through the floor, into the Great Hall. He let himself fall until his feet hit the floor - well, not really _hit_, more like just… reached… grazed, really… - and turned, floating over to one of the windows and peering outside. Ah, it was nighttime. Fred's least favorite time. Because, during the night, the entire castle went silent and the ghosts came out to play, meaning Fred had to put up with Peeves' shit until either the Bloody Baron swept him away or the morning came and Filch returned.

It was also his least favorite time because he missed lying awake in his own bed with George only a few feet away, telling crazy stories and exchanging jokes until one or both of them fell asleep. It didn't happen often, because Fred kept himself distracted for the most part, but it was one of those moments where Fred would have given anything to be beside his brother again.

"C'mon, Georgie…" He sighed, raising a hand to the window, but not sticking it through this time. His mouth twisted into a frown, lowering his gaze a little and looking away. He didn't understand why George hadn't just come to Hogwarts yet. He hadn't expected him to be gone for so long. And he couldn't _leave_, he had already tried that. There was nothing, really, left to do except wait. And since nobody else had come by, not his parents or any of his siblings, he couldn't exactly ask any of them to drag George along next time.

Fred just hoped he hadn't forgotten about this place. He hoped the next few people who would walk through those doors would be his family, and George would be with them. He hoped he'd have the chance to tease his brother again, to laugh with him, to joke with him, and to just see him _smile. _He hoped, because that was all he could do now. He hoped.

And he smiled. And he laughed. And he had as much fun as he could now. Because as much as he wished he could be with his brother, and as fun as it would be if he were there to experience all of this with him… well, he couldn't stop believing that they would be together, again, eventually. And they'd make up for lost time. And they'd be even closer than they had been before. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all, right?

Reassuring himself, he turned away from the window with a smile on his face, ready to face the… night… or so he thought, until he came face to face with Peeves. The smile faltered for a second, immediately turning forced.

"Oh…" He chuckled a little, barely managing to keep the disdain out of his voice. "Peeves… hi…" He raised a hand weakly to wave, quite obviously not really feeling it. At all. And he wasn't exactly trying as hard as he could have been to hide it, either. "How you doing?"

"Goooood~" Peeves replied cheerfully, the grin on his face - that was _always fucking there, mind you _\- seeming just a liiiittle bit creepier this time around. "Iiiii just got an idea for a new praaaaank, iiiiif you wanna hear it, Freddio?" He inched forward a little bit, and, taking that as his cue, Fred instantly dropped straight to the ground and let himself sink through, popping straight back up again a moment later on the other side of the Great Hall.

"You know, I would _love _to," he called over his shoulder, spinning around and floating backwards toward the doors. "But I think- You know, I think I heard from… someone… that the Baron was having some kind of, uh, party and I don't really wanna miss it." He grinned, watching Peeves' expression change at once. "Soooo… yeah. Sorry, bud, have fun!"

He pushed himself up, disappearing through the ceiling, but he didn't stop. Not until he reached the roof, only pulling himself to a stop when he physically could not go any further than he had. Jeez, why couldn't he have just died somewhere _cool_? Like Diagon Alley, or Hogsmeade?

"Party with the Bloody Baron…" Fred muttered to himself, flipping upside down and lowering himself to the roof, his head twisting a little bit as he fought to get a good look at the stars from his position. "As if I would ever…"

"I think that's a little rude to the Baron, Mr. Weasley."

Fred's lips twitched slightly, slowly lowering himself so that he was floating on his back. He didn't move his gaze from the sky, but he did allow it to trail across the stars, all the way to the moon. And his grin widened even further with undisguised delight as he sat himself up and turned in the air, spreading his arms out slightly. "You know me, Professor Lupin." He clasped his hands behind his head, letting out a small laugh. "Enjoying a nice… moonlight stroll… are we…?"

Remus quirked an eyebrow at him, but a corner of his mouth twitched, just barely giving away his amusement as he shook his head. "Certainly," he responded simply, walking forward. Yes - _walking. _Because of course, Remus Lupin couldn't just enjoy his time as a ghost and fly around and actually be happy, no, he had to be all prim and proper and pretend like he was walking when, in reality, Fred could clearly see he was still like five inches off of the fucking ground.

"How are you doing, Fred?"

"Me? Fine. Great." Fred flashed a grin and kicked himself back a bit, stretching out through the air and looping himself around one of the towers. "Never been… better…" He trailed off for a moment and looked down, lips twitching slightly before the smile faltered and vanished.

Remus gave him a chiding look, though his expression was soft. "Clearly…"

"Oh, I just…" Fred sighed and rolled his eyes toward the sky, a little frustrated with himself, and his expression gave that away quite clearly. "Suppose I'm… thinking… a little too much. About… Well, George." He frowned, sitting up again quite reluctantly, and turned his head faintly to look toward Remus. "... you think he's alright?"

Remus was silent for quite some time, clearly struggling, deeply, to come up with an answer for that. Fred didn't miss the reluctance that flickered across his face, the slight despair. He knew he shouldn't really be complaining. He had been separated from his brother, yes, but Remus had been separated from his child. His newborn son who he would never know, and who would never know him. Maybe neither of them had it worse than the other, but Fred couldn't deny that pretty much everyone who was there now had it pretty damn bad.

"I think he's struggling," Remus said finally, and while Fred respected his honesty, it still hurt to think about. "He lost a lot that night, Fred, he lost you. And you were… a part of him. I think what he needs is just a little time."

Fred looked away again, back up at the sky. "I'm beginning to think… that he might not… that he might not come, Professor. That he might not come back… ever." His voice quieted a little at that last part, not really afraid to admit it to Remus, but more so to himself. He thrived on hope - it was the one thing he had left now. And if he lost that, he wasn't sure what else he could do.

"He needs time," Remus repeated, sounding a little more sure of himself, but his voice was faint. He believed what he was saying, sure, to an extent. But the reassurance was most certainly appreciated, in any case, as Fred just let out a soft sigh and shook his head as if to shake the thoughts off, flopping back to float on his back and falling silent once more.

"Hey Professor?" He spoke suddenly, and Remus let out a soft hum of acknowledgement to show he was listening. "What's it like to be a werewolf?"

"... Terrifying, Mr. Weasley," Remus' voice darkened considerably, and Fred just narrowed his eyes. Honestly, he didn't see why it would be so scary. In fact, he thought it'd be pretty damn awesome. To be able to turn into an animal - a _wolf_? Hell, that could be even better than being dead!

"Sooooo…" Fred looked over at him, a mischievous look sparkling through his eyes as he smirked, "I guess being a ghost is better?"

"Oh, most definitely, I can assure you," Remus replied with his own small smile, and Fred raised an eyebrow, unconvinced for the most part, before just giving a small shrug and looking back up at the sky. "Really. As far as supernatural beings go, this isn't so horrible."

"Being able to walk through walls is fun," Fred said thoughtfully, crossing his arms under his head. "And popping out of paintings… Which, by the way, they don't really appreciate. I'm pretty sure one of the knights on the wall tried to stab me once," he added, a slightly offended look crossing his face for a moment. "I was just trying to scare Filch, he didn't have to get so defensive…"

"I don't think they enjoy having their privacy interrupted," Remus replied slowly, amused.

"Well… They can just… Get used to that, then…" Fred shrugged a little, struggling slightly for a second. He was getting a lot better at completing his own sentences now, after so long, but it was still difficult sometimes. "I mean… it's not as if they're not used to it… with Peeves…"

Remus sighed and shook his head, a smile lingering on his lips now. Fred grinned a little to himself, staring up at the sky for a moment. Sometimes, it disturbed him, how easy it was to joke around and smile and laugh - genuinely - even without his brother there. He was so used to laughing with him that it just felt weird laughing alone, but not impossible. Like maybe he was used to being half of a whole with his brother, but at the same time, he was still… his own person. Which was… really weird to think about, for some reason.

"... You think he misses me, Professor?"

"Of course," Remus replied, this time without any hesitation at all, complete certainty in his voice. "Probably more than you miss him."

Fred paused at that, unsure whether he should be offended or not, and turned his head to look back over at Remus. The smile had turned into an uncertain frown, then, thinking the words over carefully before he responded. "What do you mean…?"

"Mr. Weasley," Remus sighed softly, looking over at him, his gaze soft and serious as he searched Fred's eyes. "You have to remember, that night, you didn't simply magically become a ghost, or fade out of existence. You _died_. And that's what they saw - that's what your brother saw, that night. You were dead, and he had lost a part of himself that he would never get back."

Fred blinked, faltering for a moment. He hadn't really thought of it that way, not really. Even as a ghost he knew there was a chance he could see his brother again. George probably didn't even know he would have that chance. Fred could only imagine how that felt - even now, he was still holding onto the hope that he would see his brother again… because George was alive. He didn't know Fred had stuck around Hogwarts as a ghost. He didn't know of Fred's plans at all.

And he knew his brother better than George knew himself, and he knew if there was one thing his brother couldn't do, and had never, ever been able to do, was _hope_.

"Oh…" Fred closed his eyes for a moment. "Bloody hell." George never did well on his own. He was the pessimist. The scaredy-cat. He needed Fred, maybe even more than Fred needed George. Because Fred had _always been there_, always been his rock to lean on, always had an ear open-

_Okay, that one was good-_

\- but the point was, they had never been separated. Fred was doing fairly well on his own, keeping himself distracted and happy, busy with the usual pranks and socializing while he waited for George to show up. But what did George have to do on his own? Especially _now_, of all times? Merlin, his brother was _grieving_, and Fred was here having a _good time_ all by himself.

"I wish I could… just… go _talk _to him," he mumbled, sitting up. It would make things so much easier if he could just leave Hogwarts and go to his brother, instead of waiting for him here. "Merlin's beard, he would never… Professor… George isn't coming back… why would he?" He shook his head, a little bit horrified at himself for even _thinking _there was the slightest possibility George would want to set foot in the castle again. "It's not like… he has to attend school or… gosh, I'm such an _idiot_…"

Remus frowned, a little more concerned now, and a little bit distraught, looking as if he'd wished he'd just kept his mouth shut. "Fred…"

Fred didn't respond for a moment, just shook his head a little bit at Remus to silence him, bringing his hand up to his face. He rubbed it down slowly, eventually just pressing it against his mouth, and holding it there for a good few seconds before nodding.

"Alright, George isn't coming… that's fine." He straightened up again, glancing down toward the courtyard for a moment, before floating just a little higher. "But he isn't the only one… alive… who can visit Hogwarts… right? No. I've got it…" The smile returned to his face, though a little bit weaker this time. "I'll simply… ask someone else… like McGonagall… or Hagrid… to bring him here!"

"Fred, I'm not sure if-"

"Of course it'll work," Fred interrupted, raising his hands slightly. "Why wouldn't it? I mean, it's bloody brilliant!" He paused, looking down, then made a face. "... If you excuse me, I have to go." With that, he dove straight down and didn't stop, especially not as he whizzed straight past Peeves on his way back down.


	4. Chapter 4

"Mother_**FUCKER!**_"

Fred burst out laughing, covering his mouth with his hands as if it would do anything to muffle the sounds. He flinched away slightly when Filch grabbed one of the torches off of the wall and threw it at him- wait a second was that _lit_? He turned his head slightly, staring in disbelief, though he didn't move to try and catch it. You only made that mistake as a ghost once. Or twice. Or three times, even, in Fred's case. But, regardless, he wasn't going to try again.

He didn't need to, though, because much to his delight, McGonagall appeared around the corner just at that moment, catching the torch one-handed without even looking. Any other time, Fred would have dropped straight through the floor or simply gone invisible, but he didn't bother now. He needed to talk to her, anyway.

McGonagall looked up - not even sparing Fred a single glance - and peered over her glasses at Filch. The man went still at once, one hand raised as if to grab another torch to throw at Fred, but he backed off rather quickly under McGonagall's stare. And, sparing Fred one last, completely furious look, he swept himself away and disappeared around one of the corners, mumbling something about "revenge" and "killing ghosts". Fred bit back a laugh, raised an eyebrow, and turned a cheeky grin toward McGonagall.

"Hello, Professor."

"That's Headmaster to you, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall responded simply, moving past him to put the torch back on the wall. Fred paused for a moment, staring at where she had been standing for a long time before slowly turning back to watch her, confusion flickering through his eyes. Not even a passing glance, not even an ounce of surprise? Just _that_? It wasn't as if Fred had been exactly open about his presence there!

"Right…" He studied her for a moment, bewildered, before it suddenly clicked. "Wait a second… Professor… You do know who I am, yes?"

"Fred Weasley," McGonagall huffed through her nose and turned the full force of her disapproving, motherly stare onto Fred, who instinctively moved back a little bit. Vietnam flashbacks, you see, to his own mother. "Do you think of me as a _fool_?"

Fred hesitated slightly, fidgeting with his hands. "... Do, um, do… you really… want me to… answer that…?" He asked weakly, one last attempt at a joke, but he eventually dropped that entire demeanor when McGonagall's already-intense glare seemed to intensify tenfold, her gaze never once moving from Fred's. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Tough crowd tonight… I get it… Wait-"

McGonagall had simply turned to leave, shaking her head a little. She paused, though, at Fred's last word, and let out a half-irritated sigh before straightening up and finally turning to face him again, raising an eyebrow expectantly. Fred wasn't sure if he was relieved to have her attention again, or just straight up terrified by it. Maybe a little bit of both.

"I wanted to ask for a… favor, perhaps…?" Fred started carefully, and McGonagall folded her arms across her chest, narrowing her eyes at him even further. Fred took a deep breath, shaking his head. No woman had ever scared him this much aside from his own mother, so for the moment he was just a little bit glad she wasn't there right then. She probably wouldn't approve of his behavior here now, anyway. It had gotten significantly worse since he'd died and all.

"Time is a valuable thing, Mr. Weasley…" McGonagall said pointedly, snapping Fred back to his senses. He shook his head roughly, offering a sheepish smile.

"I was wondering…" Fred took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This wasn't really that hard to ask. He wouldn't be stumbling over his words and hesitating so much if he had asked Hagrid to do it… but McGonagall, being more terrifying, would probably have more influence over his brother anyway. "If you would… speak to George for me…"

The irritated look on McGonagall's face vanished in an instant, which made Fred a hell of a lot more comfortable, to be honest. "Ah, yes… George…" she mumbled, sounding a bit pained, and Fred's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Forgive me, Mr. Weasley, but I'm not certain if mentioning you to him is the best… idea… at the moment," she said carefully, and Fred blinked.

"What- Why not?" He demanded, a tad irritated himself, now. "I just want to speak to my brother, is all… I thought he'd be back at Hogwarts, but…" He trailed off for a moment and shook his head. "Well I… I don't quite think that he's coming."

"Oh, Frederick…" McGonagall sighed, a worried look flickering just faintly through her eyes. Fred made a face.

"Ew."

McGonagall spared him a _look_, shaking her head a little bit as if to clear her own thoughts. "I'll see what I can do," she finally promised. "Perhaps speak with your parents first. But if that is all-" She held up a finger, stopping Fred when he opened his mouth as if to say something else. "I really must be going. It was truly wonderful talking to you, Mr. Weasley, and very nice to see you again. I'm certainly glad you finally decided to show yourself."

"Yeah…" Fred trailed off, mouth twisting faintly in frustration, and he made absolutely no attempts to hide it. McGonagall was already turning away, though, and Fred watched as she left, disappearing around the same corner that Filch had. He slumped back once she had completely gone, covering his face with a hand and letting out a soft sigh. "Me too…"

Finally, he turned and dropped down a few levels or so, only pausing when he reached the basement. He didn't really go down there much, even though he didn't really have anything against that particular area at all. Well, there was one thing.

The ghost of a man that Fred had known well, too well, during his lifetime. A man who could strike fear into the hearts of many, but not Fred. A man who, to most, seemed like a cruel, heartless bastard, but to Fred, was just a complete teddy bear. A man he looked up to, and trusted, even after his so-called betrayal and alliance with Voldemort and the Death Eaters. A man he respected deeply.

"Oh, what do you want now, _Weasley…_"

A man who hated his guts!

"Severus… Severus… _Severus_, you _wound _me…" Fred laughed as he turned, seeing the poor man slouched against the door of the Slytherin's dormitories, his glare fixed intently on Fred as if he was trying to _Avada Kedavra _him with his mind. Fred just allowed an amused smile to slip across his face, floating slightly to the side and watching as Snape's eyes tracked him without quite moving, like one of those weird muggle paintings. "What, I can't… drop by? … Say hello? … How have you been Severus? None of that? Are we not _friends_?"

"Get," Snape started slowly, carefully, but possibly the best part was the way his voice rose to a slightly pleasant tone, and his expression never shifted from the death glare he was still holding firmly on Fred's face. "Out."

"Hey, it's a free castle," Fred shot back, crossing his arms. "We're all ghosts here, Professor."

Snape closed his eyes, shook his head, and looked for all the world like he was simply kicking himself. For what, Fred had absolutely no idea, but he found it completely amusing either way. His lips twitched slightly, barely keeping a grin off of his face as he turned and floated backwards midair, crossing his arms behind his head. "Get bored messing with Filch, did you?"

"Oh, that got boring… how long ago? Ages ago…?" Fred glanced to the side for a moment, faltering ever so slightly, but he recovered quickly. Grinning again, he turned back to Snape just as cheeky as before, stopping his little midair float to do a small flip in the air before sinking back to lean back against the wall beside him. "Just thought I'd… pop in, you know."

"Wonderful," Snape mumbled. "Pop out then, would you?"

"Has anyone ever told you what an amazingly friendly person you are, Professor?" Fred asked with a smile, clasping his hands together. "No, really, I'm truly amazed at your hospitality."

Snape glared back at him, silent as ever, and Fred's smile widened that much more.

"Alright, I get it. The silent treatment," Fred sighed dramatically, having to stifle a complete ear-to-ear grin as he looked away from Snape for a moment, composing himself, before he spoke again. "Suppose… you're just… not in very… _high spirits…_"

Snape groaned and sank back even further, the bottom half of his body kind of phasing through the floor now, as if he was trying to make himself as small as possible without really leaving the dungeon. Fred just finally burst out laughing, delighted with himself. Yes, he still had it. Fred Weasley still had it, people, you can all rest easy.

"I thought that one was pretty good." Fred turned his head, grin widening at once as he watched Remus approach them, and Snape's groan, while much quieter this time, had even more force behind it than the last. "Come now, Snivellus, don't you think Mr. Weasley's jokes are…" He quirked an eyebrow at Snape, and Fred marveled silently at his ability to keep such a straight face as he spoke again, "... to die for?"

Fred could hardly hold it for even a few seconds before he started laughing again. Remus' lips twitched, just slightly, barely even a smile, but Snape was scowling deeper than ever.

"Good one, Professor," Fred finally managed to gasp, his eyes sparkling with pure delight. "But I'm beginning to think… I've been a bad influence on you."

"Rubbish," Snape muttered, irritation lacing his words like venom as he hugged his knees to his chest and glared down at the floor as if it were his long-lost arch-nemesis who had just called him a filthy bastard, or something along those lines. "Remus doesn't need bad influences now, he had plenty of those when he was alive." He scowled, slowly lifting his gaze to glare at Remus instead. "Like _James_, and Sirius…"

"S'pose so, Severus," Remus responded smoothly, narrowing his eyes right back at Snape. "But then, if I've apparently turned into an asshole from these "bad influences" as you're implying… well, you certainly didn't have them." He raised his eyebrows. "What went wrong with you?"

"Whoa, people, people." Fred held his hands up, sensing danger at once, as Snape's lips curled back into a vicious snarl, already prepared to retort with whatever vicious comment he could muster in an instant. Remus paused, his gaze flickering toward Fred at once. "Come on… no need to be so negative! I mean, think about it-" He dropped his hands. "You were so… angry… at each other when you were alive. What's the point in being bloody pissed at each other now?"

Snape didn't exactly look like he was paying too much attention to what Fred was saying in between glares at Remus, but Remus certainly looked thoughtful now, as well as intrigued.

Fred just shrugged and grinned. "You're gonna be… dealing with each other for a while. Might as well kiss and make up now, amirite?" With that, he shot upwards and disappeared through the ceiling with a short laugh, ignoring Snape's indignant yelling after him and Remus' laughter.

Now, though, with a lot to consider and unsure how much time he had left, when McGonagall would be going to talk to his brother - or his parents, whichever came first, apparently - Fred had some time to… kill. He snickered a little at his own joke, spiraling through the air and breezing straight past the Bloody Baron - which a yelped apology for almost knocking him over in the process - and disappeared through the floor before he could run after him.


	5. Chapter 5

So another night of sleep deprivation was clearly not good for George.

That morning was, quite possibly, the worst one of all. He was awake when his parents rose, smelling the bacon downstairs as his mother began cooking and his father headed out to tend to the corn. He was awake when Ron and Ginny got up, arguing over the bathroom - "_you take too long!" "Oh, please, you're the girl here, you're the one who's more concerned about- OW, OKAY, YOU CAN GO FIRST, GINNY!" - _loud, by the way, seriously, fuck you two.

And, oh, he was awake to hear his brother's name spoken, more than once, from downstairs. Not really catching any words in between his own and… _his_. It hurt to listen to, more than anything, so after about the third one, he pulled one of his pillows from under his head and pressed it to his ear with a frown.

Why were they talking about _him_, anyway? And why was George mentioned? Part of him wanted to try and get a better listen, but he didn't bother. It would just hurt even more, he would start crying again, cue the start of several inevitable breakdowns to come and then George would be left even more miserable than he was before. His head was pounding, though, the pain luckily drowning out anything else they could be saying that his ear could have picked up through the pillow. Thankfully, his hearing wasn't all that good.

Unfortunately, though, it was just good enough to hear the knocking on the door through the pillow, despite having it pressed so tightly to his ear that his ear was honestly beginning to go numb at that point. He knew who it was and he was honestly dreading the interaction. It was the only one in the family that was decent enough to actually knock like that, and, besides, after what happened yesterday, probably the only one in the family who wasn't too keen on barging in and seeing him in the middle of yet another nervous breakdown.

He felt too numb to cry right then, to be honest. Maybe he'd cried it all out the night before, no more tears left. Or maybe it had something to do with the anger churning deep within his gut, the irritation that came with each passing second, and seemed to grow when he heard the knocking on the door. It took everything he had to restrain himself, compose himself.

Finally, thought, he pulled the pillow from his head and rolled over to look toward the door, eyeing it for a moment before giving a quiet. "C'm'in." And sitting up slowly, wincing a little as he did so. He was rather sore, which made sense. You could be comfortable lying down for so long when you were sleeping, but when you were just lying there, awake, stiff as a board, it was gonna take a toll on you. He pressed a hand to his forehead, barely managing to force the smile to his face as the door creaked open and, surprise, surprise, Ron was there. "Breakfast?"

"No, not yet," his youngest brother informed him quietly, shifting a little on his feet. "Mum wants you downstairs, and- …" Ron paused, cut off, and dropped his gaze to the floor. However, before George could even open his mouth to begin questioning him, his brother had backed out of the room and shut the door behind him once more, leaving George… alone. How wonderful.

Sometimes, he just didn't understand himself. He wanted to be alone, he didn't want to interact with people, even his family - but at the same time he hated being left to his own thoughts, and the darkness swirling around in his head. It made him feel a lot weaker than he'd like to admit, and it just didn't settle well with him. He just couldn't be pleased, could he? He didn't want too much attention, oh, no, but the second he was alone he turned into a complete baby. For a moment, his own self-loathing took him by complete surprise.

But he seemed to decide, after a while, that it just wasn't worth questioning at that point. He pushed himself up off of the bed, stumbling a little bit in the process, and looked around. The mirror was still turned around, thankfully enough, but he felt the familiar ache as he took in everything else in the room. He had to force himself not to let his gaze linger on his brother's bed for too long, running his fingers through his hair and stumbling out of the room to the bathroom, to get ready for the day. He realized, upon arriving there, that he hadn't picked out any clothes to change into - but he brushed it off. He didn't feel like it today.

He kept his gaze on the sink as he brushed his teeth and combed his hair, rubbing his eyes roughly as if they weren't dry enough at the moment before washing his face and hair and leaving. He had intended to take a shower that morning, he really had, but he didn't have the strength. Physically or emotionally. It was all in all a lousy day - not even a depressing day, even though he felt depressed as hell, as always, but just plain lousy. He didn't want to do anything at all.

Which, to be fair, was okay with him. He'd just stay home all day, in his room, alone, as he both hated and loved, and he could sulk for the rest of the day until it was time to "sleep", and then he could sulk again all night, too. It sounded like a set plan for George.

He left the bathroom with a towel around his neck to soak up the water dripping from his hair and his face, raising part of it to rub one half of his face and turning his head to dry the other. He hesitated at the top of the stairs, stretching his lips into a painful, forced smile - one that was obviously fake. Too obviously. He sighed and pressed his hand over his mouth for a moment, rubbing slightly, then shook his head and tried again. A little looser, this time. Not exactly a big, beaming grin, but maybe he could just get off easy by pretending he was tired and he'd just woken up. Yeah, that could work.

Taking a breath, he put the smile up and continued on his way, two steps at a time, and rounded the corner to enter the kitchen. What he saw stopped him short, however. The already usually cramped space had more people than he'd originally expected, and he stared in silence, appalled, as he watched Percy move from their father's side abruptly, moving over to their mother and reaching for one of the dishes in her hands. Charlie was nudging Ron with his shoulder, trying to show him a small egg he had, and Bill was entertaining Ginny, juggling forks.

_Well, isn't this a nice family reunion, _he wanted to say, but the words wouldn't leave his mouth, sticking in his throat along with the lump that had formed, because this was no reunion. The entire family wasn't here. He felt nothing for a moment, nothing except a rush of boiling hot anger, and Merlin knows he had absolutely no idea why. He didn't get angry like this, not at just seeing his _family_, what was his deal? He shook his head at himself, still trying to bring up the strength to speak, but he couldn't do anything but stare. And nobody noticed him, either.

"You just give him a little time, Mum, he'll come around," Percy was saying, grabbing his wand and flicking it at a dish rag on the counter. "_Wingardium Leviosa,_" he commanded, and, lifting the dish rag up with the wand, he began scrubbing the plate he was holding. He continued casually, as if he hadn't paused to begin with. "It's George. And of course… this is hard on all of us, but you know how close he and Fred were…"

George flinched and closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a soft sigh. A little too loud, he guessed - _oops? _\- because the movement in the kitchen stopped. Silence fell; he could even hear the squeaking of the dish rag against the plate Percy was washing pause, as if he'd forced it to a pause with the wand. George ran his tongue over his lips, taking a deep breath, and opened his eyes again. His chest ached, and the pain didn't let up one bit, but he just looked up and forced a tight smile at his brother.

"Evening, Perce. S'good to see you…" He trailed off, pausing for a moment, and looked down. Out of all of them, it probably hurt the worst to look at Percy. He was the one he and his brother had teased mercilessly before - even above Ron, for Merlin's sake, Percy was the number one target. But that seemed so far away now, and George didn't have any jokes for his brother right then. In fact, he didn't have any jokes. "Well, don't stop on my account, now. I only came for breakfast, but if you like to talk about me behind my back then I suppose I'll just grab a strip of bacon and head back upstairs, make it a little bit easier on the lot of you. Would you like that?"

Percy's face flushed at once, embarrassment and guilt flashing across his face, flickering through his eyes. His mother's jaw dropped, and his father lowered his newspaper with a frown. Bill set the forks down on the table, eyes glued to the floor, and Ginny looked torn between impressed and sheepish, as if she'd been part of the conversation. Even Charlie was silent, shifting on his feet and ducking his head a little. But Ron met his gaze boldly, and he didn't seem upset, nor guilty, nor shocked, as the others. Instead, he had an almost knowing expression on his face, like something like this had been coming for a while. Like he was just waiting for George to snap.

He faltered for a moment and dropped his gaze, closing his eyes. He hadn't meant to snap - really, he hadn't. And he didn't even know how those words had left his mouth right then, how he had let them. He just knew he was frustrated, and he'd woken up frustrated, and hearing his brother's name and being talked about behind his back and everybody worrying about him was only making him more frustrated. "Look…" He started, a little strained. "Perce, I'm sorry…"

"It's alright, George," Percy interrupted quickly, his voice softer than George had expected, but it only grated at his nerves even further. He was trying to be comforting, and deep down he _knew _that, but all he could hear was the same patronization that Percy had always displayed to him when they were younger. When George was just an innocent, naive little kid. Well he wasn't innocent now, and he certainly wasn't _naive_, and he really wished people would stop treating him like he was going to shatter at any given moment. Because, yes, even if he did feel about ready to break at any mention of his brother, or even the thought of him, or the slightest things that _reminded _him of him - it didn't help George at all to know that he couldn't at least try and seem okay for his family's sake. Like he wasn't doing a good job at being what he was supposed to be. It was always his brother who was better at cheering people up when they were down - at this point, George didn't know if he could get a smile out of a damn clown.

"Yeah. Alright." It was all George could bring himself to say, moving a little further into the room. He looked over at Bill and Charlie with growing despair, eyes lingering for a good few seconds, before he finally focused his gaze on Charlie. While he didn't quite want to interact much, nor was he especially in the mood for a hug, he offered his brother a very forced smile before dropping his gaze to the egg he was holding. "What's that, then?" He nodded at it. "You finally laid an egg, you…" The sentence trailed, and George swallowed and sighed, not even bothering to finish himself and moving closer to inspect the egg.

"... I what?" Charlie questioned, almost looking paranoid, as if he was missing some kind of punchline. Beside him, Ron nudged Charlie's foot with his own lightly, and it took quite a while for the older wizard to understand. "Oh- Oh…" He trailed off, looking a little despaired himself, now. George just managed a dry smile and looked up at him, eyebrows raising expectantly, and another few seconds passed before Charlie realized and remembered his original question. "Oh! Right. This!" He held the egg up slightly. "Is a Dwarf Dragon egg."

"How fun," George commented, raking his eyes over the egg. He wasn't really curious, but he was struggling to be polite, if he couldn't, at least, be his usually happy, cheerful, joking self. Oh, who was he kidding, there wasn't a chance of that today. Not with the tension he could already feel growing. At least his brother had made family reunions a little more bearable, cracking jokes to lighten the mood, but now… He shook his head and leaned back. "So is it a cross breed between a dwarf and a dragon? How'd that pairing work out for you, Charles?"

Charlie stared at him as if he'd genuinely gone insane for a moment, eyes wide, before he managed to speak. "Uh… no, it's… it's just a really small dragon…" He trailed off and looked toward Ron and Ginny, who raised their eyebrows and shrugged simultaneously, as if to say _not a clue_. George frowned a little, trying to pretend that the actions hadn't just reminded him even more of his brother, and forced his gaze away as a plate of sizzling hot bacon was set down at the center of the table. He eyed it for a moment, but didn't make a move. Bill and Ron, on the other hand, moved forward at exactly the same time and reached out at once to grab as much as they both could fit into their hand.

"_BILL AND RONALD __**WEASLEY**__!" _Their mother shouted at the top of her lungs, almost enough to shake the whole house. Ron jerked back with a startled look on his face, and Bill promptly fell to his knees beside the table, burying his face into it, his hand only inches from the plate of bacon as he let out a mournful moan. George's lips twitched, for the first time since the incident, into an actual genuine smile. Or at least, the start of one. Just for a moment, a slight laugh bubbled in his chest, but it wasn't enough to escape. He wished it would, to be honest, he wished he _could _laugh like he wanted to, like _this_, but he knew it wasn't likely to happen again. Still, he held onto the feeling for a while, enjoying the bliss while he could, before it would inevitably fade into the same painful, hollow feeling he had gotten used to.

"Some things just never change," Percy mumbled in George's ear as he shuffled past him to put a bunch of sparkling clean plates onto the table. George let out a faint hum of agreement and glanced at his brother, his gaze lingering slightly as he looked at him from the corner of his eye, and Percy caught his gaze as well as his unspoken apology. He just offered a soft smile and put a hand over George's shoulder, giving a soft squeeze, before moving past him and heading back toward the sink with a low sigh.

Eventually, Charlie got up and moved over to Percy to start helping, and Ginny eventually walked over to pull Bill up off the floor, shaking her head at him in clear disappointment in the process. Their father pulled part of the newspaper out and handed it over to Ron, who perched on one of the counters to read until their mother caught him and forced him into a chair, instead. George, feeling like he was in the way of Percy and Charlie preparing the table, backed off to lean against the doorway and crossed his arms, rubbing his thumb over his shoulder idly.

The way everyone was acting, it was like a typical Sunday at the Weasley house. Percy was grinning ear to ear at something Charlie and Ginny were saying, and their mother was consoling Bill - likely with the promise of extra bacon on his plate - as the oldest was still pretty much pouting like a child. Ron and their father were just busy reading the newspaper, while Ron had part of his shirt stuck in his mouth and was chewing slightly, almost absently. It was like a typical Sunday at the Weasley house and for a moment, George could almost pretend everything was normal. Almost. But there was still one person missing, one person who should be there.

His brother would be freaking out, excited, bouncing off the walls and cracking as many jokes as possible to Charlie and Bill. They would both be laughing, teasing their brothers, taunting Percy as mercilessly as possible and messing with Ron's hair, taking turns stealing bits of bacon off the plate while their mother wasn't looking. His brother would be overjoyed, it had been so long since they'd all been together like this, so normal and… and almost _happy_.

George blinked a few times, the anger finally evaporating into the familiar painful, twisting, clenching feeling in his chest. He closed his eyes and ducked his head a little, pressing his chin to his chest, and sucked in a soft, shuddering breath. Silent this time, so nobody would notice what, exactly, it was taking to pull himself together, the strength he was struggling to muster.

It really wasn't fair.

He rubbed his fingers over his eyes, slowly bringing them just a little closer to pinch the bridge of his nose in the process. He was surprised he wasn't really tearing up, to be honest. His eyes stung, and his breathing hitched every know and again the way it usually would when he was about to start crying, but no tears came. Not that he was particularly complaining, he was glad, to be honest, to have one less reason to turn and flee the room as fast as possible. He sank a little closer into the doorway, keeping his arms wrapped around himself tightly and letting his head fall slightly to the side, not even minding the pain as his skull hit the doorway arch, just letting out a low, shaky sigh and closing his eyes for a good few seconds.

If he'd really wanted to, he could imagine that he was there. That he had an arm wrapped around his shoulders, smiling and laughing along with Percy and Charlie. He could pretend, he could hear him, in his head, if he really wanted to. And if he thought hard enough, hell, maybe he might even be able to see his brother standing beside him, picture the smile on his face, brighter than a thousand suns and his eyes just sparkling with the warmth that George missed.

But he didn't want to because he knew the moment he started mixing reality and fantasy would be the moment he really began to come undone, and he just wasn't ready for that. He wasn't ready to lose himself completely to this - or rather, he wasn't ready for them to lose him to this, because he knew damn well that they weren't ready to lose him yet too.

He did wish he could feel happy, though. Watching his family, he wished he could smile the way they did, he wished he could laugh, genuinely, he wished he could feel as content and safe as they looked. He wished he could think, even for a second, that maybe things could be okay. He would never get over his brother's death, and he would never really, ever, truly feel whole again. But he wished he could at least _try_ to do so, actually try, instead of simply… pretending. He wished it wasn't just an act, a facade. And he wished he felt good enough, hopeful enough, to even ever begin to try to make it more than that. But he couldn't. He couldn't try, because the thought of it scared him more than anything. And despite everything, it would just make him feel worse. Like he was trying to forget his brother even existed.

Then again… isn't that what he was already doing?

For a long moment he just watched them, until he couldn't. Until their happiness finally became too much for George to bear. Yes, he liked seeing them smile, and he liked knowing they could at least try to be happier, they could at least be somewhat okay. But he would never be, not without _him_, and there was just nothing that was ever going to change it. So they were okay - good for them, he was happy, he really was. But that wasn't for him, and he wasn't going to pretend it was. Not just to himself. They didn't need him, not right then.

A hand on his shoulder made him blink his eyes open, looking up to see his mother.

"Georgie…" She said softly, raising a hand to the side of his face, gently brushing her knuckles down his cheek. George was silent, feeling the familiar twisting in his chest at the use of his nickname. He looked away for a moment, making sure nobody else was paying attention, before offering his mother a very slight, very forced smile. Trying to put as much cheerfulness into it as he could, but it was clear, even to himself, that he just didn't have it in him today. "It's okay…" His mother murmured gently, leaning in and kissing his cheek before pulling back, patting the side of his face before moving away and walking over to where a few pans were hovering over the stove, a pancake in each one, flipping themselves magically.

George's mouth twitched slightly, but that was as far as it went. Not even upwards, into a smile, but not into a frown, either. Just a small twitch before it settled into a neutral expression, and he looked down again, brushing his cheek against his shoulder. Then, with one last glance up into the crowded room, he eventually just backed out and headed for the living room. There wasn't anything for him to do in there, and he needed a moment of silence, away from their laughing and joking around, anyway. He leaned against the back of the couch and picked at a small thread, twisting it around his finger but not really trying to pull it off.

Why was it that trying to be strong made him feel even weaker?

"Come in here to brood again, did you?" George's head twitched slightly in Percy's direction, though he didn't quite look over at him yet. He just dropped his gaze to his hands and ran his tongue over his lips before straightening up, gripping the back of the couch tightly and finally lifting his gaze to his older brother. Percy was silent for a while, leaning forward beside him, his hands settled on the back of the couch, but gripping much less strongly than George was. "I get it, you know," he spoke after a moment. "Pretending to be alright when you're not."

"Who's pretending?" George's lips tugged into a half-smile, but Percy didn't even look up to see it. He just continued to stare down, so after a while, George just let the smile drop and turned his head away from his brother, his gaze finding the window. He trailed his eyes over the sky for a moment, taking in the sweet looking pale blue, the clouds just white dust scattered across. "I _am _alright, Perce," he said after a few moments, closing his eyes.

"You know, your acting could use a lot of work," Percy commented quietly, and George looked back over at him. Percy still had his gaze downcast, a half-lidded stare fixed intently on the floor in front of the couch, as he shifted slightly to lean even further against it and crossed his arms over the back. "But I think you still deserve an award. Typically, people like you and I are supposed to only spew such absolute shit from our asses."

George didn't know whether to be proud at the joke, or insulted. He pressed his lips together tightly and let his gaze drift again, toward the carpet, more or less trying to figure out what was so important and interesting on the floor that Percy wouldn't even look up to meet his gaze while he was talking to him. Talk about blatant disrespect. "Good one, Percy. Really."

"I'm just saying it like it is, George." Percy sighed through his nose, and George felt the couch move slightly at his older brother sank his weight against it completely. He straightened to adjust it before leaning against it again, this time a little more careful, keeping most of the weight on his feet but still quite obviously trying to get comfortable, as if he planned on staying there for a while. "You can't keep pretending like this, bro. It's just going to eat at you, rip you apart on the inside. And you _have _to know that, I mean, the way you act when you think nobody's watching. I've seen it, and Ron's seen it-"

"Since when do you take Ron's word for anything?" George interrupted quietly, but Percy continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"- Even Dad's worried about you, George, and you know what it takes to get him to worry." Percy finally lifted his gaze, but instead of looking at George, he simply fixed his gaze on the wall ahead of them, eyes flicking over the portraits hanging up there. George shook his head and looked away from him again, knuckles turning white as he gripped the couch just a little tighter, really just wanting to put an end to this conversation so he could eat, then go back up to his room and curl up in his bed for the rest of the day. "You're close to bursting."

"I'm not a water balloon, Percy," George replied simply, raising his eyes to the ceiling for a moment before simply squeezing them shut again, shaking his head a little bit. "And I certainly don't need _you_, of all people, telling me how to deal with my _emotions_."

"Alright, that's fair," Percy responded, his voice a little more strained now than it was before. George had struck a chord, that much was clear, and he took a few seconds to decide whether he wanted to continue or simply shut the conversation down himself. He didn't want to fight with his brother, not today, but he certainly didn't appreciate Percy getting into his business like this. "Regardless, I stand by what I said. You're not okay, and it's about time you start admitting it."

"I don't have to admit anything, Perce," George murmured, his tone growing just slightly colder now, and he didn't turn his head back around to face his brother again. "That's the great thing about being your own person… see, you don't have to… _justify _yourself to anyone."

"I'm not asking you to-"

"Yeah, well, it sure as hell feels like it."

Silence passed for a few moments, the tension between them seeming to grow even stronger during that time, and George took a deep breath and forced his grip to loosen on the back of the couch when he felt his fingers beginning to go numb. He finally opened his eyes and looked over at Percy after a few seconds had passed, seeing his gaze hadn't moved from one of the portraits he'd been staring at. George had been too afraid to look.

"I don't understand you," Percy finally spoke up after a moment, his gaze flickering as if he wanted to look toward George, but he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of the portrait yet. "I really don't, G. I thought I knew you, but I really don't know anymore. I thought, at the very least, that after something like this, you wouldn't feel like you had to go through it alone, like you had to suffer through it by yourself. But more than anything I thought you were smart enough to know that you don't have to pretend you're okay, for us, because Merlin knows you're probably the one that's more affected from this than any of us could possibly be."

George shook his head, feeling a lump rise in his throat as Percy spoke, but he struggled to speak around it. "Yeah, well, I guess… you don't really know me… as well as you thought you did." He closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head again, and choked out a small laugh. "It's just- it's funny, you know, that you think… I'm doing any of it for you."

"Then who, George?" Percy asked quietly. "Because I know you're damn well not pretending for yourself. That much is obvious."

"And what do you know?" George shot back, but there was no venom to his words, no real genuine hostility that he could actually muster. Just the same hollow emptiness he had felt moments before, and it seemed to be getting even worse by the second, with each word his older brother said to him. "Really, Percy, please, tell me what you know about your oh-so precious emotions and feelings, and, hell, go on and continue evaluating mine while you're at it."

"Personally George I think I know a lot more about it than you," Percy said evenly, finally seeming to lose his temper just the slightest bit. "Because recently it seems like the only thing you know how to do is shut people out."

"You have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, do you Percy?" George snapped after a few moments of silence. "You really don't know me at all."

"No, but I would love to actually get the chance, if you're done trying to push us all away and ready to stop hiding behind your little mask, George," Percy replied stiffly. "You can't always count on that smile, you know, it's going to end up failing you and you'll be left right back at rock bottom. And then you won't be able to tell us you're okay anymore, because you'll be breaking right along with the rest of us."

"No, Perce-"

"I just don't understand why it's so damn hard for you to accept what you're feeling, George. And why it's so damn hard for you to let us _help you_ with it," Percy interrupted him, finally lifting his gaze to his brother, and while briefly startled by the fury that was blazing clearly through his eyes, George's own anger wasn't quite failing him just yet. He turned to face his brother completely, seething.

"I don't _need_-" George paused with one hand raised, ready to jab a finger against Percy's chest to emphasize his point as he spoke, but he stopped when Ron appeared in the doorway, looking irritated and more done than ever before as he glanced between the two of them. George thought he heard him mumbling "unbelievable" under his breath, but he wasn't too sure. Dropping his hand, he turned his attention to his youngest brother. "What?"

"Breakfast is ready," Ron replied shortly, seeming just a little bit pissed, but judging by the way he glared at Percy as the older wizard slipped past him to get into the kitchen, George had to guess he wasn't the only one who had the pleasure of being on Ron's Kill List. If only briefly. Ron spared him one last glance before he turned to follow Percy, leaving him alone in the room.

George sighed and raised his hand again, pressing it to his forehead and slowly dragging it down, before just shaking his head, straightening up, forcing a smile, and following after his brothers in silence.

* * *

Talk about awkward.

After that, the tension between those two was so thick that you could almost see it in the air like fog. Percy sat at the table as far away from George as he could manage, which honestly left George fuming because if anyone had a reason to avoid _anyone _it was George. Percy was the one that had come to him trying to get all sappy with his emotions, it wasn't like he had exactly been up for a nice little sharing-and-caring moment and crying on his brother's shoulder.

Every once in a while Charlie would chip in, rather awkwardly, and try to diffuse the tension. Try to bring both George and Percy into a conversation, bring up a subject both of them would enjoy. It didn't really work, but George could appreciate his efforts. Bill had his head down, but he would glance up every once in a while and spare a quick glance from Percy to George and back again before he looked back down to focus on his food. And even Ginny, as talkative as she usually was, seemed to prefer keeping her mouth shut now.

Oh, and then, there was Ron, who was pretty much glaring across the table at the both of them in between bites of his food, his chin resting on his hand and a deep frown on his face that could even somehow rival George's.

Their parents weren't really any help either, but they didn't pry too much. Percy clearly didn't want to talk about it, and, oh, neither of them were willing to press George on the subject because George was an innocent little baby who would just immediately _shatter _under any kind of pressure. He shook his head a little bit at himself and dropped his gaze to the plate in front of him, mouth twisting and teeth grinding as he fought to keep the scowl off of his face.

"... So you know Dwarf Dragons?"

George paused with the fork midair and flicked his eyes up to his brother, who was sitting just across from him. He pursed his lips for a moment, genuinely debating on whether or not to actually answer, before he simply put the fork down along with the bit of pancake he had pulled up with it, and crossed his arms over the table. "Yes, the dragon-dwarf hybrid."

"... N- No…" Charlie hesitated a little, clearly unable to tell whether George was joking or not. Which, now that he thought about it, was understandable. Charlie had been gone for a while, hadn't he, doing his dragon research? He hadn't exactly dropped by the house as often as Bill had, the most they got was letters and such. But it made George realize for the first time how little he actually knew his brother - and how little his brother knew him, for that matter - and for some reason it just made him feel even more disconnected than he already had been.

He shook his head, let out a sigh, and leaned back slightly in his chair. "S'a joke, Charles, s'all," he mumbled, his voice a little lower than before. Charlie blinked a few times, clearly not quite understanding, and George fought the urge to roll his eyes. George fell silent for a few moments after that, then ended up just dropping his gaze and picking his fork back up to continue eating. He felt sick already, and he knew it was coming eventually, but he wanted to get a few more bites in before it started looking suspicious.

It was silent for a while before their mother suddenly cleared her throat, setting a goblet of orange juice down on the table beside her plate and clasping her hands together to catch the attention of her children. Percy was the first to look, then Ron and Ginny at the same time, then Charlie, and then George. Bill stuffed a few more bites of bacon into his mouth before Percy had to nudge him to get him to look up.

"Now, I know Bill, Charlie and Percy are aware of this." Their mother gestured to the three as she spoke, and Percy straightened up a little, eyes widening, as if just now realizing what his mother was getting at. "But…" She looked over at Ron and Ginny, and then allowed her gaze to linger on George for a long time, seeming to hesitate over her own words. "Well…"

Their father glanced over at her, watching her hesitate. When she eventually just dropped her gaze, he reached out and clasped a hand over her shoulder, squeezing gently, before turning his attention to the others. "We've been invited to Hogwarts, asked to help with repairs. Most families have, and your mother and I really think we should all be there."

George's fork clattered onto his plate noisily, but he didn't really care. He stared at his parents in complete disbelief, his breath catching in his throat, as he leaned back. _Hogwarts_? Did they really expect him to want to set foot in that place? Hell, after everything, George had at least thought he'd made his feelings on Hogwarts clear. It was the one thing he was actually open with them about, in all honesty. The thought of going at all made him feel sick.

Why would he want to go back to the place where he lost his other half, repairs or not?

"Well, that's good, then…" Ron spoke up, but he had his gaze fixed on George out of the corner of his eye, seeming to expect some kind of outburst. With the glances Percy was sparing his way every now and again, he was expecting the exact same thing. Ginny just shrugged and looked back down, seeming pretty okay with the concept, herself, and Bill and Charlie simply went back to eating and neither of them looked up again for a while after that. George sank back a little, staring down at his plate for a moment. They didn't really expect him to go, did they?

"Yeah… wonderful," he finally brought himself to speak, running his tongue over his lips and standing up. "You all have fun, then. Tell Professor McGonagall I said hello, would you?" He turned without waiting for a response, ignoring his mother's helpless stare and the disappointed expression that flashed across his father's face.

"Actually," Charlie suddenly spoke up, his voice smaller than George had expected. "McGonagall's headmaster now."

"That-" Ron glanced over at him in complete disbelief before shaking his head and pushing himself up a little, himself, reaching out to grab George's sleeve. The man just pulled away from his younger brother, holding his hands up slightly and taking a few steps away. "George, come on, at least finish eating breakfast, would you? Talk about this with us?"

"You act like I'm going to be gone forever, Ronnie-kins," George mumbled, finally managing to reign in some self-control and forcing a smirk at his brother. "I'm just going to the bathroom." Ron didn't look convinced, not in the slightest, but he let George go and sat back down with a shake of his head. George took a deep breath and turned away from all of them once more, heading back up the stairs in silence and going as slow as possible so he didn't have to head back to that table anytime soon.

He shut the bathroom door behind him, fell back onto the floor beside the toilet, and let pretty much everything he'd just eaten come right back up again. Holding his food down was practically a foreign concept to him at this point.

He must have been in there like that for about half an hour before he felt ready enough to leave again. Before he could bring himself to force himself to his feet, though, a whole new wave of nausea hit him. He closed his eyes and sank back down, ready to give in again, though at that point he didn't think he had anything left to throw up. He tried not to think about it - that, along with the sharp twisting in his stomach, and the voices downstairs and the hand on his back-

_Excuse me?_

His head snapped up, whirling around to see Charlie there. He wasn't even sure how long his older brother had been there, but he didn't exactly look like he'd just gotten there. He was settled cross-legged on the floor, rubbing gentle circles on George's back, looking worried.

"Charles," George mumbled, struggling through another wave of nausea as he bit his lip and twisted slightly to pull away. Charlie lifted his hand from his back, but he didn't move otherwise, his worried gaze unmoving as he blinked down at his younger brother. "Why are you… what…" He trailed off, taking a deep breath, and sank back slightly with a shaky sigh. "What're you doing in here, man?" He finally managed to ask, his voice slightly choked, strained.

"At the moment, worrying about you," Charlie responded honestly as he reached forward, pulling the handle down on the toilet to flush it before standing up and heading over to the sink. George watched him in silence, exhausted and confused, as he grabbed a rag and turned the water on, placing the rag under the faucet wordlessly before flipping open one of the cabinets and sifting through the toothbrushes. "Which one's yours?"

George paused for a moment, shrugged, and mumbled, "one o' the blue ones." He kept his mouth shut as much as possible, keeping breathing to a minimum. Each breath in was just another fresh wave of nausea, and he wasn't sure his stomach could take much more of that. Charlie nodded, grabbing some other things from out of the cabinet and pouring some water into a small cup before walking back over and settling down beside George once more.

"How long's this been going on, George?"

"Charlie…" George sighed, and Charlie gave him a _look_. And he was definitely his mother's son, let me tell you, because for all his softness that wizard had a look that could rival even Molly Weasley's. George sighed, struggling slightly, debating between trying to force a smile or just giving up on his little cheerful facade for the time being. After a moment, though, he just let it drop. "Since… since… since Hogwarts, okay?"

Charlie fell silent for a while, then took a deep breath and swallowed heavily before popping the toothpaste open and squirting some onto the toothbrush, dipping it into the water before handing both the toothbrush and the cup over to him. George accepted it after a moment, along with a quiet "thanks", and just stuck the toothbrush in his mouth for a while and leaned back. He expected some nausea to follow the second the minty taste hit his tongue, but it actually cleared most of it up, which definitely helped him relax just a little bit.

Eventually, he shifted to pull his legs under him slightly, sinking back against the wall, and Charlie remained cross-legged beside him, picking at a thread on his shirt. It was a while before either of them spoke, and it was Charlie who broke the silence. "You're really not going?"

George pulled the toothbrush out of his mouth to respond, rather resigned now, but set on what he was doing. He couldn't go back to Hogwarts. It was the one place he just wouldn't be able to set foot inside without completely breaking down, and he knew he wouldn't have the self-restraint to wait until he was alone to do so, either. And that was something he didn't want any of them to see. "I can't, Charles," he muttered. "I just, _can't_."

Charlie nodded slightly in understanding as George simply put the toothbrush in the cup and slid it away a bit. He felt a lot better now, a lot clearer. And he supposed he had Charlie to thank for that, most definitely. The wizard sighed a little and looked down at his hands for a moment, eyes narrowing ever so slightly and his eyebrows furrowing faintly in thought as he frowned. It really wouldn't get easier and he'd accepted that, but damn, why did it have to be so hard?

"I'm gonna ask Mum if I can stay behind with you," Charlie said suddenly, and George's gaze flickered up at once. "Just to keep you company, y'know. Maybe catch up a little." He kept his gaze fixed on George, and after a moment, he understood. Charlie just didn't trust him to be at home on his own. It wasn't like George was going to try anything, he'd made up his mind about that a long time ago. But he could still understand why Charlie would be thinking that way, despite himself, and he could understand his worry. Still…

"You really don't have to do that. These days…" George trailed off, huffed out a soft laugh, and continued quietly, "these days I rather prefer to be left alone."

"Yeah, I know," Charlie replied evenly, then offered him a small, warm smile and reached out gently to nudge his shoulder against his younger brother's, sitting back with a soft, relaxed sigh. "But nobody deserves to be alone, George. And I think it would put everyone's mind at ease if you let me stay behind with you."

"Let you…" George trailed off and let out a small chuckle, closing his eyes for a moment. "You're a… grown wizard, Charles… You do whatever you want."

"Sure." Charlie fell silent for a long time before he turned to face George completely, and George blinked his eyes open to meet his gaze. He looked completely serious now, holding his brother's eyes with such intensity for a moment that George genuinely thought he was trying to use x-ray vision on him or something, see straight through to his soul. "But what about what you want?" He finally asked, his voice much quieter than before as his eyebrows furrowed together.

George fell silent for a long time at that, eventually just offering a low sigh and a small shrug before turning his gaze away from his brother. He picked the toothbrush back up, reaching for the toothpaste to squirt a little more onto it. And he had no response, nothing else to say, and Charlie seemed to realize that, because he eventually just sank back and closed his eyes. George just put the cap back on the toothpaste, put it down, put the toothbrush in his mouth and leaned his head back against the wall with a soft sigh, no intentions of leaving anytime soon.


	6. Chapter 6

"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD  
_MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORNIIIIIIIIIIING  
__**VIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMM!**_"

The second people started pouring in through the doors, Fred knew exactly what was up. He'd heard rumors among the other ghosts that the actual repairs would be starting today, and he was still hoping that McGonagall had actually gone to talk to his mother, praying that George would show up. To keep himself busy, he'd been spiraling in between the floors, avoiding Peeves to the best of his ability and doing a few good loop-the-loops around the castle and squealing in complete delight as he did so. It was times like this that made being a ghost so worthwhile, he just felt so free.

But the second the doors opened, his attention was diverted immediately. People rushed in, wands at the ready, and Fred pulled himself to a stop above them to watch with growing curiosity as they filed in. He caught a glimpse of Malfoy - Draco Malfoy - and his mother. Lucius wasn't there, what a shame, Fred would have loved to dunk his head in a toilet every now and again during his stay there. There were a few others that Fred recognized during his time at Hogwarts, but he didn't fly down and he didn't make himself known, just searching.

And, finally, a flash of red hair.

The grin on his face faded, but only to settle into a soft, genuine smile as he looked down. His mother and father were side by side, his mother looking around the damaged castle with an obvious frown on her face and his father far too busy than anything making sure his wand was ready to begin the repairs. Behind them, Fred was faintly surprised to see Bill walking through, stretching his arms above his head as he walked, and Percy following at a slower pace. Ginny rushed past him straight away, disappearing into the crowd at once, and Ron was at the far back, hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the ground and a scowl written across his face.

… None of them looked happy by any means.

There were no smiles, no sparkling eyes, hardly any words exchanged. Percy split from the group, already waving his wand to fix a few paintings that Filch had missed during his daily patrols, and Bill caught sight of Fleur and vanished into the crowd along with Ginny. His mother called something back to Ron before disappearing into another room, and his father finally took his gaze off of his wand to hurry after her, saying something about a time limit.

Ron stopped walking, finally raising his head, and pulled his wand out of his pocket as he turned to head over to Percy to help. Fred faltered a little, realizing that was it. George wasn't there. George hadn't come.

Part of him wanted to swoop down and find McGonagall, ask her if she knew anything about that. Uncertain as to whether or not he was ready to reveal himself to his family, or if they were even ready for him. He'd wanted George to be the first one to see him, but he wasn't _coming_…

He lingered above for a moment, staring down, a tortured expression on his face.

"Feeling alright there, Mr. Weasley?" Snape's voice drawled from behind him, and Fred jumped a little in surprise, not quite expecting that. He blinked a few times, clearing away the tears that he hadn't been aware had risen to his eyes, and he took a deep breath before turning to face Snape, bracing himself for whatever snarky comment was going to come, whatever taunting. The ghost Professor seemed rather docile at the moment, though, rather… relaxed.

"I've been… better, admittedly," Fred replied honestly, clearing his throat a little and shaking his head, as if that alone would be enough to shake the tears away, to force down the lump that had formed in his throat. He looked back down, a sad smile forming on his lips as he watched Percy and Ron, side by side, wands waving in sync as they began to mend part of a wall, which had a rather large crack running down it. Fred took in a breath and shut his eyes, ducking his head a little and clearing his throat again. "How can I help you, Professor?"

"Not sure I'm the one that needs help at the moment," Snape responded smoothly, and Fred could feel his gaze still lingering on him. "What are you waiting for, exactly, Mr. Weasley? Some kind of invitation? For them to spot you first?" He let out a small snort, and Fred's smile faded into a small frown for a moment, blinking his eyes open. "Really, what are you waiting for?"

"George," Fred murmured immediately, and a long pause followed his words. Then, letting out a soft sigh, Snape floated a little closer and reached out. His hand hovered over Fred's shoulder, solidifying abruptly as it clasped down, delivering a soft squeeze. Then he pulled back, his hand turning transparent again, and Fred looked over at him. "I guess I… missed him… a lot more than I originally thought." He tried for a laugh.

"Of course you did," Snape responded simply. "But there's absolutely no reason not to show yourself to the family that's here, just because one of them isn't. Wouldn't you rather them pass along the message for you? Wouldn't you rather them be able to bring him next time?"

Fred paused, eyebrows furrowing, and he looked back down, his gaze searching across the crowd for his younger brother again. He smiled a little bit, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, as his gaze finally fell onto Ron, lingering for a long while. "I just…" He exhaled slowly and raised his head a little, flicking his gaze from Ron to the ceiling. "I don't… I just wanted… Him to be the first one that I…" He trailed off, his gaze dropping again.

"I suppose I can understand that." Snape fell silent for a while, allowing his own gaze to trail over the crowd below. "But he's not here, Mr. Weasley… And they are. So what you need to ask yourself is, is it worth it to wait, or wouldn't you much rather say hello while you can?" With that, he soared upwards and disappeared straight through the ceiling. Fred tilted his head back to watch him go, falling silent for a long while after Snape had disappeared, shoulders sinking as he finally forced his gaze back down.

Which one would he even approach, anyway? His mother, his father? Bill? Percy? Ron? Gin?

He had wanted to appear side by side with George when he confronted them again, arm in arm with his twin for the first time in… gosh, forever. That's what it felt like. But George wasn't there and, despite himself, his chest gave a painful, longing ache as he watched the rest of his family below. Snape was right, they were there and… George wasn't. And he had no idea when he'd get the chance to see any of them again - _if _he even would.

"So stupid," Fred mumbled to himself, shaking his head with a soft sigh. "I thought these… problems… would go away just… because I can… walk through walls now?" He snorted a little at himself, his gaze trailing back to Percy and Ron. His parents were in the other room, and he had absolutely no idea where Bill and Ginny were - probably with Fleur and Harry, respectively. So if he was going to pop up to anyone, it might as well be these two.

He hesitated, briefly, before finally bringing himself to dive down. Neither of them noticed a thing, backs turned as Fred finally skidded to a stop, just before his feet could go straight through the floor, and took a deep breath as he pulled himself up a little. Unsure of what to say for a good few seconds, he only managed to glance between the two of them and open and close his mouth every so often, trying to choke out the words but not quite able to bring himself to. It wasn't exactly as easy as he thought it would be - what did you say to someone who thought you were dead?

… Well, technically, he was dead. He really needed to remember that…

He was finally about to just wing it and pop up in front of both of them at once without even saying anything when Ron suddenly turned, mouth open as if to call for someone - and he stopped short, still open-mouthed, and locked his gaze right on Fred.

And of course, unable to _not _see the humor in the stunned expression on his brother's face, Fred cracked a grin at once, all his hesitation and nervousness about approaching him seeming to evaporate all at once. "Well, what's the matter, Ickle Ronnie-kins? You, uh…" He let out a soft "snrk" sound, barely keeping himself from bursting into laughter right then and there as he continued, "you look like you've just seen a ghost."

Ron choked, dropping his wand.

"_Fred?"_

"In the-" Fred paused, not because Percy had finally whirled around, but because if he were to say "flesh" right then it would be overwhelmingly ironic _and _incorrect. He squinted slightly for a moment, glancing behind them, at the wall, before giving a small shrug, unable to think of anything else to say. "Well… you get the picture?" His gaze finally flickered to Percy, who was staring at him with pretty much the same expression that was written all over Ron's face. "Perce!"

"What… _the_… _**fuck**_?" Percy managed to choke the words out slowly, struggling with each one, and Fred's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Percy wasn't exactly one to _swear_, not so openly anyway, but he brushed it off. I mean, it was a pretty shocking situation, wasn't it? Fred would be swearing, too. Not that he didn't, anyway, but…

"Right… Language…" Fred finally said, pausing a little and allowing his gaze to flicker between both of them. His smile melted slightly, twisting into a small frown for a moment. He had expected more of a reaction, to be honest - at least from Ron, in any case, but neither of them seemed at all capable of stringing together a coherent sentence right then. Fred pursed his lips and leaned back a little, clearing his throat. "Well… this is awkward…"

Ron raised a hand, dropped it, then raised it again, opening and closing his mouth as if trying to say something, but completely unable to even make a single _sound_.

And- were those _tears_ brewing in Percy's eyes? _Was he about to __**cry**__?_

Okay, abort, none of this was going at _all _how Fred had imagined it would, and it only served to remind him exactly why George had been the first person Fred was going to reveal himself to. But it was far too late for that, he didn't exactly have a wand with him and he couldn't erase their memories of this entire interaction, so he was kind of at a total loss of what to do at this point.

At least until Percy practically threw himself forward, clearly intending to hug him, but his dear older brother had seemed to forget one vital thing; That Fred was a _ghost_.

So barely a second later, Percy was on the ground and Ron was choking again, and Fred was having a rather difficult time, once more, trying to keep himself from laughing. He raised a hand, pressing it over his mouth and looking down at Percy, who was slowly pushing himself to his feet with a completely embarrassed look on his face, his cheeks tinging a slight shade of red.

"You alright there, P-?"

"Don't…"

Fred laughed a little, raising his hands and opening his mouth. But that's when Ron finally found his voice, and it was _loud. _"_WHAT THE __**BLOODY HELL?!**_"

He blinked and turned his gaze to his younger brother, who had a mixture of anger and pain written across his face, tears flickering clearly through his eyes. Fred blinked, smile vanishing in an instant, his amused look immediately twisting into complete concern as his brother took a few steps forward, hand raising again, this time jabbing a finger against Fred's chest. "You've been here this _entire _time, and- _nothing_?!"

Fred blinked, the realization slowly sinking in. "... Ron, I couldn't-"

"No, really! Do you have any idea how- how _hard _it has been on everyone?!" Ron was practically yelling now, and Fred was sure if he looked he would see several people staring at them, but his gaze never left his younger brother for a second. "And you've just been here this _entire time_?! You couldn't even, what, you couldn't even drop by, you couldn't-?"

"Ron!" Fred interrupted him, a little desperately now. "Ron, I _couldn't._"

Ron's furious expression didn't change, clearly not quite understanding just yet, and Fred's chest gave yet another painful ache at seeing his brother like this. "Why not?"

"I can't leave Hogwarts, Ron," Fred mumbled, taking in a slow, deep breath and holding it for a few seconds before letting it out slowly. Carefully, he lowered himself slightly to the ground, forcing his body to solidify. He couldn't ever hold it for too long, probably because he'd never really tried, but he relaxed when he felt his foot hit the ground instead of simply going through it as usual. He paused to make sure he was completely solid before taking a step forward, a little unsteady. "I _physically _can't. Believe me, I would have if I could…"

Ron stared at him in silence, finally seeming to comprehend, but the tears didn't leave his eyes and the angry pain written across his face wasn't letting up just yet. Fred faltered for a moment, then moved forward even further and simply grabbed his brother by the shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug and just holding him there. Ron didn't react for a few seconds, seeming far too… stunned to do anything, but he finally managed to wrap his arms around Fred in response.

"I'm sorry," Fred murmured after a moment, starting to pull away. Ron's grip tightened, however, pulling him right back into the hug, and Fred only huffed out a soft laugh before wrapping his arms around him again, giving a soft squeeze and just closing his eyes for a moment.

He looked up, however, feeling another pair of arms wrap around him. His lips twitched slightly, meeting Percy's gaze for a moment, and moved his head back a little bit to rest it against Percy's shoulder for a few seconds. The three stayed like that for quite some time before Ron finally seemed to be able to pull himself away. Percy was a bit more reluctant, so Fred simply shifted to wrap one arm around him while Ron took a second to compose himself, rubbing at his eyes roughly the way a tired child would.

"It's good to see you, you know," Percy mumbled to him, and Fred just gave a soft smile in response, letting out a quiet sigh and shaking his head a little.

"'Course it is, Percy, of course it is."

"Oh, Merlin's beard…" Ron suddenly let out a soft, choked laugh and covered his face with his hands. "If only George had come… he would be…"

"Yeah… speaking of George…" Fred raised an eyebrow slightly, his smile immediately twisting into a frown as he finally pulled his arm away from around Percy, who stood back and brushed himself off in silence. "Where is he? Why didn't he come today with you all?"

"He's back at the Burrow," Ron mumbled, shaking his head a little. "With Charlie-"

"_Charlie_?" Fred echoed in slight disbelief, raising his eyebrows slightly at that, but Ron just nodded and continued on.

"He didn't want to come. Too many bad memories, I guess." Ron fell quiet, and so did Fred, for quite some time after that. He looked down for a moment, slowly turning transparent again, but he quickly forced himself to solidify again. Letting his head fall back for a moment, he let out a soft sigh and nodded. He could understand that. But still… how were they ever going to get George to come to Hogwarts, if that were the case? Would he think it was some cruel joke if Ron or Percy told him Fred was there? Would he believe them?

None of them had much of a chance to say anything. Percy was silent, moving over to pick up Ron's wand for him, and the youngest brother was just leaning back against the wall they had been repairing, a deep frown on his face now. Fred just clasped both hands behind his head, arms covering his ears as he tilted his head back and raised his eyes to the ceiling.

The sound of his mother's voice caught his attention, making him turn his head. She was walking up with their father at her side, inspecting his wand - which Fred was just now noticing had a long crack down the side, how on earth did that happen? - but she looked up at the boys as she approached. Her eyes found Fred, and her eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly, a deeply concerned look crossing her face for barely half a second before she masked it with a careful smile. "Oh, George… you changed your mind, I'm so glad…"

Fred just stared at her for a moment, his expression softening considerably as he took in the soft smile on her face, the warmth flickering through her eyes. He had missed them all a great deal, but he probably missed his mother almost as much as he missed George. "I'm not George, I'm Fred," he finally managed to reply, his lips twitching into a playful but warm smile as he let his arms drop back to his sides.

The smile on his mother's face vanished in an instant, and even his father came to a complete halt, sucking in a breath that didn't come back out. He watched his mother's eyes flicker from one of his ears to the other, watched the tears well up, and watched as she let out a soft cry and rushed forward much like Percy had before. This time, though, Fred was ready and solid, arms open to catch her as his mother threw her arms around him and promptly broke down sobbing.

Fred chuckled and pressed his face into her shoulder, his next words muffled but clear, and much softer. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother?"

The sobs doubled, this time slightly breathless with laughter, and Fred closed his eyes as he felt his own tears brew up. He rubbed her back silently, tracing soft circles and just staying still, letting her hug him as tight as she could. He did blink his eyes open to lift his head and look past her toward his father, after a few moments had passed, silently locking his gaze with the older wizard's. His father didn't say anything, and he didn't move, but he had a smile on his face with warmth that could very nearly rival his mother's.

He smiled back softly and closed his eyes again, pressing his face into his mother's shoulder once more and letting out a soft, steady sigh. He could only think of one thing now that would make this better, and it didn't feel at all as far away as it had before.

Fred smiled at his mother as they pulled apart, watching as her hands rose to rub the tears from her eyes. He gave her shoulder a soft squeeze before moving forward to embrace his father, who hugged him tightly and gave him a few strong pats on the back before they pulled apart, much quicker than the others, but the hug heartfelt as it had been with Ron, Percy and his mother. He smiled slightly, content to be exactly where he was, at least for the moment.

"I was beginning to worry…" He chuckled a little, glancing over at them and letting his gaze flick over each one in turn, a soft smile forming on his lips. "I didn't know if you all were going to…" He trailed off for a moment, leaving his sentence unfinished for quite some time. "... show up."

His mother's face crumbled slightly for a second, but Fred wasn't really sure why. She looked over at his father, then Ron and Percy in turn, and Fred let his gaze flicker between each of them, eyebrows furrowing faintly in concern. They wore identical expressions, solemn and pained, and Fred raised an eyebrow slightly but didn't comment on it. Rather, made an attempt to change the subject, holding his hands up slightly with a smile.

"Well, come on, why the long faces?" He questioned. "It's a good day, yeah? … Say, where's Bill and Gin? I saw them come in, but…" He turned his head, scanning over the crowd for a moment. His mother let out a small chuckle, though it didn't quite seem like her heart was in it right then. Percy gave a small shrug, twirling his wand in one hand with a sigh.

"Well, Bill's probably with Fleur and Ginny's probably with Harry."

"And they're all probably snogging," Ron added idly, along with a faint roll of his eyes. Fred's lips tugged into a grin, raising an eyebrow at his younger brother with a cheeky smirk.

"Oh, don't look so put-out, Ronnie. I'm sure Harry'd love to snog you next, if you're patient," he said cheerfully, along with a few soft snickers, and Ron's face fell flat. He sighed and raised his hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, and dropped his wand again with a scowl.

"Twins, true to form…"

"Of course," Fred replied with a grin, but it faded after a few seconds. Not quite upset, but more or less a thoughtful look as his gaze flickered back to his mother and father, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly. He leaned back a little, startling a bit when his back hit the wall, but he relaxed against it rather quickly with a sigh. "Speaking of, though… Do you think you can… you can persuade him to come down here next time…?"

"Easier said than done," Percy muttered, a slightly strained tone to his voice now, but he quieted down instantly at the look his mother shot him. Fred just frowned.

"Well, I bet he'd be a lot more open to coming back when he finds out that Fred's here," Ron piped up, and Fred's mouth twisted slightly, an uneasy expression crossing his face. His mother wore the same look, eyes flickering with uncertainty as she studied her son, reaching up on occasion to brush his hair back out of his face or simply to run her knuckles down his cheek. Fred, always the mama's boy, couldn't really say he minded all that much.

"Oh, I don't know…" Their mother trailed off. "You know how sensitive he is about Fred, and I…"

"Well, I know that," Ron replied with a frown. "But don't you think it'll make things that much easier when he finds out he can actually talk to him again? I think that would be worth seeing him flinch a few times at the sound of Fred's name, don't you?"

Their mother fell silent for a while, contemplating that, but now it was Fred's turn to speak up. "I don't want him to know I'm here… until he comes," he said carefully, and his brother's eyebrows furrowed in confusion while his mother's face smoothed out a bit, settling into a soft, understanding expression as she brushed Fred's hair out of his face again.

"Why not?" Ron questioned, eyes narrowing a little bit, looking more bewildered than anything.

"I want to surprise him."

Ron frowned, but Percy nodded a little bit, as if he understood. His mother sighed a little, but a soft, fond smile was making its way onto her face as she shook her head and chuckled sadly. "Of course you do…" She trailed off, letting out a sigh, and turned her head to give Arthur a worried frown. "Well, we'll certainly do our best but… Fred, if it's that bad for him, I'm not sure how convincing we can be…"

"Well…" Fred trailed off, frowning quite a bit himself now as he dropped his gaze to the floor, shifting his feet against it slightly. "Just give him a bit, keep bringing it up. Don't… push too hard, you know, but… it's George. He can't say no forever…" He trailed off, his frown deepening. Yes, he knew it would hurt like hell for George to even consider coming back, or at least he could only imagine, but he also knew that if there was any chance of them seeing each other again, then they just had to work through that.

"Look, if you can't get him to come next time… go ahead and tell him," he finally said, carefully. "Just… last resort, alright? If you can't get him to agree any other way?"

"Short of knocking him out and bringing him here unconscious?" Ron questioned with a raised eyebrow and an almost teasing smirk on his face, but there was no mirth in his eyes.

Percy let out a quiet hum. "I volunteer…"

Fred snickered, while a slight grin finally cracked across Ron's face as his youngest brother offered a simple roll of his eyes at Percy, who gave an innocent little shrug and picked up Ron's wand - yet again - only to end up stuffing it into his own pocket, seeming to decide Ron didn't deserve to have it back if he was just going to continue dropping it. Ron glanced at him with an almost indignant expression on his face, but he didn't say anything.

"Alright, well…" Fred gave a small shrug. "While I usually don't agree to violence against George in particular, if it gets him here, you go right ahead." And he meant it, too. Sorry George, but if that's what it took to get you to Hogwarts… well, Fred was going with anything at that point.

"Until then, though." Fred turned his head a bit, slowly glancing around the room. "I'm going to go find Bill and Ginny." With that, he let the solid form slip, turning transparent once more before shooting upwards, toward the ceiling, and diving straight back down to soar right over the crowd. He solidified his hand every now and again to flick random people on the ears, vanishing just out of sight when they turned to look, and snickered a bit to himself when one person let out a startled squeal and literally jumped about a foot into the air.

He swept himself through with a smile on his face, only coming to a complete stop when he caught a glimpse of the familiar red hair. He spun around midair and dropped, coming face to face with Bill, who had just been in the middle of a conversation with Fleur. His oldest brother stopped mid-sentence, blinked, and locked his gaze on Fred. His mouth snapped shut abruptly, surprisingly enough not seeming all that surprised to see him, but he did look pleased and slightly startled, as if he had expected the interaction, but not for it to be so soon. "Fred!"

"Oh, good, you recognized me… I wasn't sure." Fred offered a grin, solidifying himself with ease and opening his arms for a hug, which Bill gladly went for. He wrapped his arms around his younger brother tightly, and Fred hugged back just as strongly, burying his face into Bill's shoulder and staying there for a good few seconds before pulling away, patting Bill's shoulder in the process. "It's good to see you… How've you been?"

Bill shrugged a little, but a smile was lingering at the corners his lips. "Good as I can be, considering the circumstances," he replied, his voice quieting slightly, and he clasped his hands over Fred's shoulders and pushed him back a little to study him. "McGonagall said you were here, but from what I heard you've been pretty antisocial. It's good to see you, though."

Fred grinned slightly and shrugged, looking over at Fleur. She looked amused, but still just a tad confused, and Fred had to guess Bill hadn't had the time to fill her in quite yet. Fred offered her a small smile before giving his oldest brother a nudge and a grin. "I'ma go find Gin… Hey, do me a favor? Don't tell George I'm here," he added quickly, and Bill quirked an eyebrow questioningly as Fred continued, shrugging. "It's a surprise thing- ask Mom, she'll tell you."

"Alright," Bill responded, bemused, and Fred gave a thumbs up and finger-guns before grinning at Fleur again. Then, with a hum, he shot himself right back up into the air, transparent once more, and dove back down toward the crowd in silence. Admittedly, it took quite a while of searching, zipping in and out of different rooms and even different floors before he found Ginny. With her arms wrapped around Harry's neck, snogging, of course.

Fred dropped slowly to the ground just a few feet away and solidified again, raising an eyebrow at the scene in front of him. Neither one seemed to notice him and, well, he couldn't exactly blame them, this looked pretty intense. He was honestly considering just leaving and coming back later to say hi to Ginny and threaten Harry's life a million times over. But he wasn't sure when he'd get another chance, so after about a minute or so, he piped up. "Morning."

They broke apart at once, clearly startled, and Harry sank back against the wall with a gasp. Ginny whirled around immediately, open-mouthed, embarrassed, red as her hair, ready to say something - and then she caught sight of who was in front of her. Much like Molly, Ginny's eyes flickered back and forth between his ears, and he watched silently as her chest stopped moving the second her breath caught, tears immediately springing to her eyes.

It was Harry, funnily enough, who moved and spoke first. Fred, at the moment, wasn't even sure Ginny could find the words if she tried. "Fred?" Harry uttered, moving forward and adjusting his glasses as he stared at the other wizard, eyes wide. Fred's lips twitched, glancing over at him and offering a smirk in response, as well as quirking his eyebrow just the slightest bit for a few seconds before his expression relaxed, turning back to Ginny. His younger sister seemed to be on the verge of tears, swallowing and blinking rapidly as if trying to fight it.

Fred opened his arms and there was no hesitation left; Ginny rushed forward and threw herself forward, arms wrapping around Fred tighter than the man had thought possible, and he just held his sister as close as he could. "I know," he shushed her softly when she broke down sobbing into his chest, clasping a hand over the back of her head and pressing a kiss to her forehead with a sigh, rubbing her back. "I know, Gin… I missed you too…"

Ginny didn't reply; through her tears, she couldn't. So Fred just held her and continued to whisper reassurances, rubbing her back slightly and running his fingers through his hair, easing some of the tangles as best as he could. He just held her, not asking for a response, not expecting one. Sometimes silence said a lot more than words could.

* * *

For a while, after that, Fred switched back and forth between each of his family members respectively, talking and joking with all of them. He spent the most time with Ginny, admittedly, because to be completely honest she seemed like she needed it the most out of anyone there. He did drop by Percy to yank his sleeves up every now and again, tug on his ears a few times and just basically being as much of a pest as he possibly could, and by the end of it he was pretty damn sure Percy was wishing he wasn't even a ghost.

Talking to them, he noted, was much more difficult than it was when he was talking to anyone else. At least with other people he had gotten rather used to finishing his own sentences - but when it came to his family, he was always talking with George, either in sync with him or completing his sentences, and vice versa, with ease. He wondered if that had changed, to be honest, since they'd been apart for so long. He wondered if they'd still be as in sync as they used to be. If they could still take one look at each other and know what the other was thinking.

They seemed hesitant to answer any questions he had about George, such as how he was doing, etc, things he'd been doing, and saying, and just in general what he was up to these days. He had already gathered that his twin didn't leave the house much, and he was genuinely impressed that George had pulled himself together enough to be able to manage a trip back to Diagon Alley, to the shop. A little disappointed to find out that he hadn't been able to go inside, and that he wasn't taking care of it - but not really disappointed at George, in particular, no… more or less disappointed in himself for expecting it. The way they spoke about George made it absolutely clear that his brother was hurting a lot more than Fred would have liked to think about, and that alone just made him ache to see him even further. In fact, by the end of the day he was honestly considering just telling his family to tell George about him so neither of them would have to wait even longer than they had.

Ron seemed the most open to talking about George. He told Fred how hard it seemed to be on him. The way he tried to joke and laugh like he used to, but that the smiles were always forced, the laughter faked, the jokes halfhearted. He told Fred why George was even trying so hard in the first place; not for himself, but for them. And he wasn't surprised. George had never been able to see his family down like that, of course, it was a very George-like thing to do for him to try to cheer them up, even when he was the one that needed cheering. Ron also expressed his own exasperation for George when it came to that in particular, and even Percy had quite a few things to say about how he wished their brother would just be honest with them already.

He understood, but didn't, at the same time.

The day went by a lot quicker than he had expected. Their mother didn't want to leave, but she had concerns about leaving George alone with Charlie for so long. Fred wasn't sure why, from what he remembered, Charlie and George had been rather close when Charlie was around, and Charlie was just, in general, a big softie anyway when it came to the family.

But again, he understood. They couldn't stay at Hogwarts forever and Fred was honestly just glad with the time he'd been able to spend with them that day. He pulled each of them into a hug in turn before they left, holding onto Ginny and his mother respectively a little bit longer than the others.

"Don't be so hard on him, Perce," he mumbled in Percy's ear as he hugged his older brother, squeezing tightly. "You can't imagine what it's like to lose a twin." After a moment of silence, he added even quieter, "honestly, neither can I." Percy just nodded and, as they pulled back, Percy offered a soft squeeze to his shoulder before turning and heading outside after Bill, who was waiting to leave with Fleur at his side.

"Same goes for you, too," Fred added to Ron, who was beside him, inspecting his wand, which admittedly Percy had only just recently given back to him. He looked up when his older brother spoke, a confused look crossing his face, before Fred continued. "Just don't be so hard on George, Ronnie. He means well, he does… He just…" He trailed off for a moment. "He's never had to deal with anything like this before, you know?"

"I know," Ron murmured in response, and Fred pulled him into a hug as well, holding him just a little closer, a little tighter than he had Percy before pulling back and ruffling Ron's hair.

"And take care of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes for me until Georgie's feeling up to it, would you?" Fred offered a sad smile, but his eyes flickered warmly as he dropped his hand to Ron's shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "He'd appreciate it a lot… and so would I."

"You got it, Fred." Ron chuckled a little bit, reaching up to fix his hair. Fred turned his head as his father moved past him, but not before clapping Fred on the back and bringing his hand up to his shoulder, squeezing tightly and offering him a small, knowing smile. Fred just grinned back in response, watching him disappear outside along with the others, and Ron followed suit after a moment with one last lingering look back at Fred.

Which left Fred with his mother, Ginny, and of course Harry, who was lingering slightly behind them, hands in his pockets, eyes on the floor. His mother pressed her lips to Fred's cheek one last time, fixing his hair once more, before pulling back. "If you need anything - whatever it might be, company, or if you need me to drag your brother down here _myself_…" She raised her eyebrows, almost warningly, at him, "you get someone to contact me, understand?"

Fred's lips twitched into a soft grin, holding his mother's gaze warmly and giving a slow nod. "I will, Mum." He pulled her into another hug, this one not lasting as long as the others, but warm and gentle all the same. "Take care." He kissed her cheek in return before pulling back, and embraced Ginny once more as his mother turned and headed out after the others, calling something to Bill about getting "off of the fence, Bill Weasley!", which brought an amused laugh from both Fred and Ginny as they pulled apart.

"I really can't say anything to George?" Ginny asked quietly, somewhat dejectedly, and Fred took a moment to pause and tuck her hair behind her ears, giving a soft, sad smile in response and shaking his head a little.

"Not yet… I'm sorry, kiddo." He pressed another kiss to her forehead, as he had done earlier, and she leaned into the touch with a gentle sigh and a faint smile on her face now. "I love you, alright? And hopefully I'll be seeing you soon?" He checked, and Ginny gave a quick, enthusiastic nod in response, her smile widening ever so slightly. "Good girl. Take care of Mum and Dad for me, would you? And George?"

"'Course," Ginny replied quietly, her smile never faltering for a second, before she looked over at Harry expectantly. "Coming?"

"Yeah," Harry said quickly, sounding almost startled, as if he'd been lost in thought for a few seconds there. Fred looked over at him for a second as he walked forward, but Harry paused slightly beside him, meeting his gaze for a few moments before offering Ginny a small smile. "Just, give me a minute, alright? I'll be right out after you."

"Okay." Ginny lingered for a moment, and Fred could tell she was debating on whether or not to give him a quick kiss before she left, but a last glance at Fred seemed to seal her decision. So instead she just smiled at both of them before turning and heading out after their mother, leaving Fred and Harry pretty much alone. And for a while it was silent between them, as Fred clasped his hands behind his back and turned slowly to face Harry, his smile turning a little tighter.

"So," he started, as casually as he possibly could, as he stared down at the other boy with a mix of amusement and a hint of a warning look in his eyes. "You're snogging my sister now, are you? … I do have to admit… I did think it would be Ron at the beginning… but beggars can't be choosers, am I right?" He quirked an eyebrow, while Harry just let out a soft, almost breathless laugh and shook his head a little. To his credit, he didn't seem nervous, but he did look guilty.

"Fred…" Harry started, faltered, looked down, and took a deep breath. After a moment, taking a few seconds, it seemed, to compose himself and think about whatever he wanted to say, he looked back up and tried again, a bit quieter this time. "I'm sorry."

That kind of took Fred by surprise, as he merely stared at Harry for a while with a look of silent intrigue on his face, clearly trying to figure out whatever it was the other wizard was apologizing for so he didn't have to ask. But, after a moment he just shook his head and gave a bemused grin. "Alright, I'm hooked… Why? For snogging Ginny? I was only joking, you know, I don't m-"

"Because, you…" Harry took a deep breath and gestured slightly at nothing in particular, though Fred did turn his head to look as if he expected to see something. He didn't, of course, so he turned back to Harry with his eyebrows raised, expectant. "You died… because of me, Fred."

"Ohhhh." Fred pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side and blowing a few strands of his ginger hair from his face when it fell with the movement. After a long, long thirty seconds of careful consideration, he looked back at Harry, raised his other eyebrow, and offered a sweet little smile and a shrug. "No hard feelings."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed, almost in confusion.

Fred sighed. "Really, Harry! Don't sweat it, you know… I didn't die because of you. I died _for _you- and for them." His gaze flickered away, toward the witches and wizards who were still working around the castle, and the ones who were packing up and getting ready to leave for the night. Then he looked back toward the doors, where his family had gone, and a soft smile tugged at his lips as he shook his head. "I died for them… and for George… and for Hogwarts. And I don't regret it… not really." He looked back down at Harry, who had fallen silent by then, his gaze fixed on the floor. "None of us do."

"I just…" Harry faltered, eyes squeezing shut, and shook his head back and forth. "God, I just wish there was _something _I could have done- I could have saved you, and the others, and I should have, but I… I couldn't…"

"You can't save everyone, Harry."

Harry didn't respond for quite some time at that, eventually just nodding and pushing his glasses up to rub at his eyes. He adjusted the glasses slightly, clearing his throat, and pushed them up on the bridge of his nose before returning his green gaze to Fred, managing only the tiniest of smiles, which even Fred could tell was rather forced. "I guess so." He shrugged, and before Fred could say anything else on the matter, he added, "you gonna be alright here?"

"Me? Oh yeah. I've got company," Fred replied, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back a little. "More worried about my brother than anything…" He trailed off for a moment, offering a one-shouldered shrug. "But he'll be alright too." He looked away, letting his gaze trail around for a few moments. "How about you, Harry?" He finally asked, bringing his gaze back to Harry and studying him intently. "Will you be alright?"

Harry managed a faint, tired-looking smile. "Damn right."

"Atta boy." Fred offered a grin and raised his hand for a high-five, which Harry gladly accepted. After a second, though, Fred grabbed his wrist with his other hand and pulled the other wizard into a tight hug, giving him a strong pat to the back in the process. Harry hugged him back just as tightly, not seeming at all surprised by the sudden hug, but honestly more or less seeming to have just expected it.

"You be good," Fred murmured as he pulled back, then gave a pointed look. "Especially to Ginny." Harry let out a slightly breathless laugh at that, but he nodded seriously, his eyes searching Fred's for a moment. Then he pulled him back into the hug, which Fred gladly accepted just as easily as Harry had accepted his, closing his eyes for a few seconds and relaxing into the embrace before they both pulled apart.

"Take care, mate."

"You too, Potter."

Harry smiled at him, then pulled away completely. He seemed much more relaxed now, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and Fred managed a grin at that. Good, the kid deserved a bit of a break, anyway. Then, with a quiet sigh and one last, farewell nod in Fred's direction, he turned and headed outside with the others. Fred turned his head to look after him, his smile turning a little softer as he heard Ginny's yells of excitement, calling Harry's name, and just before the door had shut he could vaguely hear his mother still chewing Bill out for something. Probably having to do with the fence thing from earlier.

But he didn't know, and he wasn't concerned about it right then.

Smiling, he lifted up, let his solid form break down into the transparent one once more, and soared straight up to take his spot on the roof and watch the stars as he did every night. This time with a lot more to contemplate than before, but this time more content than ever.


	7. Chapter 7

"You know, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind when you said you were staying behind."

George would have much rather been anywhere than here right now. For one, it was cold as hell, and George wasn't exactly dressed to be outside in this kind of weather. And they weren't exactly _alone_, for another thing. In fact, there were pretty much people everywhere, walking in different directions, and he winced every so often when someone brushed past him, bumping his shoulder and sending him stumbling just a few steps back before he continued on.

"C'mon, it's not that bad," Charlie protested, flipping through a stack of small, green paper in his hands. It was muggle money, George knew that, his father had shown him and his brother every once in a while when he came home from work. He had been rather interested then, if he was honest, mostly because Fred was. Now, not so much. Then again, it wasn't exactly like George had any other hobbies or interests these days. He did wish Charlie would just let him go back home to the Burrow, but his brother wasn't budging on this.

"It's _freezing_," George retorted, and Charlie paused for a second to look back at him, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly as a frown tugged at his lips. That was enough to get George going again, with a half-groan, half-sigh in response, and he moved forward further to walk at his brother's side. "Okay… spare me the puppy dog eyes…"

Charlie chuckled a little bit, the frown immediately lifting into a warm smile, and George forced his own as his older brother wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a small side-hug. He didn't exactly mind the contact, don't get me wrong, but he hadn't exactly been in a hugging mood lately either. Regardless, he leaned into the embrace and raised his own arm to hold Charlie's shoulder, giving a soft squeeze before they pulled apart again. "At least tell me where we're going…?"

"To get you a jacket, for starters," Charlie responded amusedly, and George gave a small snort. Charlie shrugged a little, then continued a little quieter. "Well, everyone's gonna be gone for a while and I figured it wouldn't be too much fun for either of us to be just, cooped up inside the house. So, I thought I might take you out, go shopping for a bit… have some fun?"

"Shopping," George echoed, managing a weary-looking smile as he looked away from his older brother, instead turning to glance through the windows of various shops they were passing. His mouth twisted a little bit, letting out a low sigh. It was getting dark - didn't these muggles have bedtimes, or something? Didn't their shops have some kind of closing point? They couldn't exactly run it forever, they didn't have magic to keep them awake, or keep the store going without them, so how did that work?

"Being stuck at home isn't so bad, you know," he mumbled. "We can just go back and hang there until Mom and the others get back." He frowned a little more, finally letting his gaze flicker up, and he turned to eye his brother almost suspiciously. "Don't you have to go back to Romania soon or something, Charles?"

"Well, I don't _have _to," Charlie responded, tilting his head ever so slightly and furrowing his eyebrows in a contemplative look. "No, I don't have to. The others can handle the kids-"

"Kids?" George repeated, eyebrows shooting up. Charlie's face flushed red, almost as red as his hair, and he gave George's shoulder a small push with his hand and let out a nervous laugh as he stuffed the muggle money back into his pocket.

"The dragons," he corrected himself, and George's lips twitched just slightly despite himself, huffing out a slight, silent - but genuine - chuckle and looking away for a moment. Charlie's entire demeanor changed at that, his eyes lighting up ever so slightly, and a hopeful expression crossed his face for just a few seconds before it was masked again, just in time before George had turned back to him. "Come on, Georgie, just give it a chance? I promise you won't regret it."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," George warned, but he couldn't exactly deny his brother much now. He let out a low sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, then just gave a small nod and a forced smile, not opening his eyes to see his brother's reaction. "Okay… Fine…"

"Ah- _Yes_!" Charlie let out a small laugh, nudging his shoulder against George's, and the wizard merely shook his head at his older brother with a soft sigh. "Look, trust me, this is going to be fun. Have I ever done you wrong, George? Huh?" He looked at his younger brother expectantly, and George raised his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes faintly, looking ahead and adopting a curious, thoughtful expression as he pretended to think about that.

"Well…"

"Oh, funny," Charlie mumbled, offering a roll of his eyes before suddenly grabbing George's wrist, pulling him to a stop with a grin on his face, and turned his head to look at one of the shops they were passing by. "There it is!"

George raised his eyebrows and turned. The shop they had stopped in front of was a large, brick building, separated quite a distance from the others. The door was straight in the middle of the wall, completely made of glass, and on each side were two large windows. The glass was stained, slightly colored, a light rosy pink but still transparent enough to see through. Blue pawprints ran across one of the windows, the trail continuing on the other side, and there were posters of cats and dogs on each one.

George opened and closed his mouth, immediately wanting to deny entering. He knew what this was and, while he didn't have anything in particular against animals, they were really more Charlie's thing than anything. But after a moment, he just slowly snapped his mouth shut and forced a smile at his brother, who pulled him forward without another word.

"If you're thinking there's going to be dragons in here, Charles," George spoke up, stepping after him as they approached the door. "I invite you to remember exactly how muggles feel about large, fire-breathing, dangerous animals, yeah?"

"George, I am _very _much aware of this, thank you," Charlie laughed, pulling the door open. George jumped a little at the sound of a bell ringing as soon as the door was pulled open, looking up in faint interest. There was no bell in sight, though, which made him quirk an eyebrow slightly in faint confusion, but he didn't have much time to question anything before Charlie was hurriedly pushing him inside. "Come on!"

"Alright, alright, rushy…" George complained, but he let his brother push him inside. Charlie didn't stop until they were all the way toward the back of the shop, where it separated into a whole different room. The wall was literally just made of glass, so George could see through rather easily. There were cats inside, several of them, either lounging in a bed or one of those cat-house-climbing contraptions, or playing around with toys that seemed to have bells inside, because he could hear a lot of ringing as they batted them around at each other. One cat, in particular, looked up to fix George with a steady green stare. It was mostly ginger, with some white around the ears and a large streak down its chest, but it also had some black splotches along its back and down its tail, where the black and white slowly formed rings up to the tip, which was ginger.

George blinked at it, watching in silence as its mouth opened in a silent yawn, and it stretched out in its bed. Then, with one last lingering stare, it promptly turned its back on him, curled up, and tucked its nose under its paws.

How friendly.

"Well, what're you waiting for?" Charlie peered through the window, seeming particularly taken to a black cat that had strolled up to watch them, narrowed eyes flicking back and forth between both George and Charlie as if asking _what's your business here, punks? _Charlie just gave a small coo, and George raised an eyebrow at him in faint amusement before turning his attention back to the ginger, white and black cat, intrigued.

"Let's go inside," Charlie said with a laugh, opening the door and heading inside without another word. He held it open behind him for George to enter and, after a moment of just slight hesitation, he finally sighed and gave in, following.

He almost expected the cats to scatter when they entered, but most of them stayed in place. A few of them ducked into little tunnels, jumping onto ledges on the walls, snuggling closer to their beds and eyeing the two with obvious distrust. The less skittish ones kept their distance, but they seemed to size Charlie and George up, noses wrinkling faintly and offering - what sounded like to George - judging _mrrow_'s before strutting away toward one of the windows.

And then there were the more friendly ones.

Not even five seconds after the door had shut behind him, George felt something pressing against his leg, rubbing slightly. He looked down, blinking, watching as a tiny black kitten wove itself around his feet, purring all the while and looking up at him through innocent green eyes. George met its gaze silently, and for a while he was nearly locked in a complete staring contest with it. It even stopped moving, head tilted back, just looking up at him with an expectant gaze as if waiting for something. Anything.

George's mouth twisted slightly, contemplating, before letting out a low sigh and crouching down. Before he had even raised a hand to pet it, the kitten reared up on its hind legs, pressing its nose straight against his fingers, and he felt its claws digging into his knee as it began to nuzzle his hand. And, despite himself, a small grin broke across George's face.

"Well, you're just an affectionate little thing, aren't you?" He mumbled, rubbing his thumb across the kitten's head, and the purrs bursting from its chest seemed to intensify tenfold. The grin widened ever so slightly, genuine, as George ran his hand from the kitten's head, down its back, to the tail before lifting his hand back to its head to start over again. "Yeah, you're really sweet."

"Don't get too attached yet," Charlie called to him, stretched out on his stomach on the floor, one hand holding a cat toy. A black stick with a feather on a string at the end, which he was currently teasing the black cat that had been eyeballing him before with. "Might wanna ask Mum permission before you go bringing a cat into the Burrow."

"Aw, she wouldn't mind." George shifted slightly and raised his other hand, picking the kitten up with a smile and bringing it eye level with him. The kitten squirmed just a little bit, claws scrabbling against his sleeves before both its front paws hooked around his hands, and it leaned forward to press its nose to George's, purring all the while.

Merlin's beard, they hadn't even been in there for five minutes and George was already in love with this little kitten.

"You say that now…" Charlie hummed, then suddenly let out a shriek and jumped. George looked up, startled, pulling the kitten a little bit closer to his chest. The black cat had jumped at Charlie, forgetting about the toy completely, and swiped a - luckily - sheathed paw straight at his nose. Charlie jerked back just in time, covering his face with one hand. "HEY!"

"Feisty kitty," George mumbled, looking down at the kitten, who was simply snuggled up against his chest at the moment, rubbing its head under George's chin. "But you're not like that, are you? No, you're a sweet little kitty, yes you are…"

Charlie sank back against the wall and watched him for a moment, a small smile making its way onto his lips. George finally looked up after a moment, catching the expression on his older brother's face, and he raised his eyebrows questioningly as his grin disappeared. "What?"

Charlie's lips twitched further, the smile widening just a little, but he only shook his head and turned away to grab the toy and resume his torture of the black cat. "Nothing."

"Mm…" George turned his attention back to the kitten, blinking slightly in surprise. It had shifted slightly, burying its nose into his shirt, and was simply curled against his chest. It was still purring, but it seemed to be asleep now, eyes shut and ears twitching ever so slightly. George's smile returned, a little less noticeable now, but genuine all the same.

And for a moment… just for a moment… he forgot about almost everything else.

"Merlin's sake, this one hates me," Charlie complained, dropping the toy and jerking his hand back just in time to save himself from getting smacked with a black paw, this time with the claws extended. The cat hissed at him, ears pinned back against its head, and George lifted his gaze slightly to watch. His smile widened faintly, shaking his head a little and looking back down at the kitten. "... Wanna trade?"

"Uh, go fuck yourself," George said immediately, resting his chin slightly on the top of the kitten's head. It stirred faintly in his arms, but relaxed almost immediately after, letting out a squeaky yawn and burying its nose deeper into George's shirt. "He's mine."

"Oh, boy," Charlie sighed, turning his attention to a different cat, a little tortoiseshell kitten, who was peering at them from one of the tunnels. "I'm gonna have to drag you out of here kicking and screaming, aren't I?"

George shrugged.

"Okay, well," Charlie let out a thoughtful little hum, finally coaxing the kitten out of the tunnel, and began to gently stroke its ears. George let out a small hum, pressing his nose to the top of the black kitten's head, breathing in softly. It was warm against his chest, the purrs growing louder and faltering steadily with each breath in and out that it took, and George closed his eyes for a moment. There was no pain accompanying the warm sensation that flooded his chest, and while the hole that had seemingly ripped its way through his heart didn't feel nearly as full as it should, he also didn't feel as empty as he had just a few minutes ago.

Charlie's voice broke him out of his thoughts, his older brother having taken on a light tone, as one would use when speaking to an infant, since he was now interacting with the tortoiseshell kitten, who was pretty much rubbing her head over every inch of his hands. "What would you name it, if you were to keep it?"

At this, George paused slightly. He hadn't even thought of names yet, and, to be honest, he didn't exactly expect to be able to keep the kitten anyway. He knew his mother probably wouldn't mind it at all, but he also just wasn't sure if he was in the right… mindset. If he was emotionally stable enough to be caring for any living being completely, like a kitten.

Still, though…

"Dunno," he finally mumbled, his mouth pressed to the top of the kitten's head now, words muffled by the soft, fluffy black fur. He felt almost guilty, for even wanting to keep it. Because this was the best he had felt in so _long_, just when he was coming to grips with the fact that he would never feel okay again. And yeah, it wasn't completely better - it still hurt, even now. But it was numb enough, distant enough, to where it wasn't the first thought in his head. To where… _he _wasn't the first thought in his head. And he didn't know whether to feel relieved or… guilty for feeling relieved.

"Y'gotta admit, George." Charlie looked up from the tortoiseshell for a second, eyeing the kitten, which was barely visible now, it was curled up so tightly in George's arms. "It is a pretty cute little thing…"

The smile returned to George's face, if only briefly, tugging at the corners of his lips as he listened to the kitten purring. He sighed a little, lifting his head, and shifted back slightly to sink against the wall behind him. He leaned his head back, watching the kitten stir again, blinking its eyes open briefly and focusing on him.

"Tch…" George chuckled a little despite himself, sounding a lot more exhausted than he had expected. He didn't even feel tired, not right then. "Yeah… yeah, it is."

"And, I mean… What Mum doesn't know won't hurt her…"

George paused at that, staring at the kitten for a few more seconds before finally lifting his gaze to his brother, both eyebrows quirking questioningly, and he lifted his chin slightly to give him a _look_. "Sure," he responded smoothly, and added, "but what she _finds out _might hurt _me_…"

Charlie laughed a little at that, shaking his head, and turned his attention back to the tortoiseshell when it started nibbling his fingers to get his attention. "You know what I mean…" He shook his head again, picking the kitten up. "Just… bring it home and tell her some story how you found it on the streets or something-"

"We don't live _near _any streets."

Charlie paused, mouth opened, and snapped it shut again, sparing him an odd look. "Were you always so negative?"

George blinked at that, a little offended despite himself. "Not _negative_, Charles, _realistic_," he retorted, the smile fading a little bit for a few seconds. Not because of what Charlie had said, not really, but because it reminded him of a conversation he had had with his twin a long time ago. He'd given his brother the exact same response, getting a few laughs out of him in the process. He hadn't been as offended when he had said it, either.

But now, honestly, it felt much more true, because yes, George was pretty negative. His brother had always been the positive one, and thus, he kept George just as positive. But now…

The kitten was the one to pull him from his thoughts this time, stretching one paw up to press it against his nose, and George looked down, startled. The kitten just blinked up at him clearly, tail whisking back and forth as it settled against George's chest again, its other paw kneading George's shirt slightly, but the one on his nose didn't move an inch. Its green eyes never wavered, never left George's face, just continued to stare as intently as ever, concerned.

"... Oh, fuck this," George mumbled, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a slow, defeated sigh. "I'm bringing this kitten home with me if it kills me…"

"That's the spirit!" Charlie laughed, and George allowed a small smile to cross his face again. He eventually slid down, stretching out on his back against the floor, the top of his head pressed to the wall behind him. He settled the kitten on his chest again, on top of him, and the kitten wriggled slightly against his hands for a moment, inching closer to his face. And, reaching both paws out this time, it settled them right against George's chin and simply lowered its head between its front legs, nose burying into George's chest, and closed its eyes to sleep again.

"You see?" Charlie murmured, and George could hear the satisfaction in his voice. He didn't turn his head to look, though, knowing he would just have that smug smile on his face. The typical Weasley smirk. "I told you you'd have fun today."

"Day's not over yet, Charles," George reminded him, though his smile didn't fade this time, settling one hand over the kitten's back as it slept. The purrs grew just a bit stronger, but it didn't wake this time. "Let's see how it turns out."

"Whatever you say, brother," Charlie hummed. "Whatever you say…"

* * *

Two hours.

That's how long they stayed at the pet shop.

Neither brother minded it the slightest bit. Charlie was surrounded by animals - he was having the time of his _life _right then. And as long as George kept the little black kitten close to him, he certainly had no complaints.

It was a lot more… energetic than George had expected. When it had woken up from its little nap, it wriggled straight away from him and dashed off across the room, disappearing into one of the tunnels. George had just gone completely still, a little disappointed but more or less stunned and confused. But not even a second later the kitten had raced back out, with a tiny, blue, stuffed mouse clamped in its jaws. It bounded straight back to George, leaped up into his lap, and dropped the mouse at its paws with an expectant meow.

And so he picked the toy up, not quite comprehending, not really understanding exactly what it wanted him to do. It stood there, staring at him, so after a moment George simply dangled the mouse in front of it, expecting it to jump up to catch it. The kitten just tilted its head back to look at it, blinked several times, and returned its intent green gaze back to George's face.

George blinked back, then looked back at the mouse. He shook it slightly, wondering if there was a bell inside or something, but nothing. The kitten looked up at the movement, again, but it didn't move. Its tail flicked back and forth, silent as ever, and it even gave a small yawn before looking back at George, eyes unwavering. George dropped his hand and looked over at Charlie helplessly, but his older brother was asleep, curled up next to one of the cat beds. The ginger, white and black cat from before was curled up beside him, paws tucked under its chest, and it was watching George with an amused _amused _expression on its face.

"Oh, I don't suppose _you _know what to do," George muttered defensively, not quite sure why he felt so _judged _by a _cat, _but at that point not really caring too much either. The black kitten twitched its ears and looked over at the calico for a moment, and it met the kitten's gaze, the amused expression never faltering. The black kitten gave a soft _mrrowr _before turning back to George, batting one paw at the mouse.

He released it at once, sitting back. The calico rose from its spot beside Charlie, stretching out slightly, claws spreading as it lowered itself down, then straightened again abruptly. Then, meeting George's gaze for no more than a second, it simply strode over to them, nose high in the air, and flicked its tail in the black kitten's direction. George watched, eyebrows raised, as the kitten took a few steps back and crouched down, tail lashing back and forth wildly.

The calico raised a paw, looked down at the mouse, and brought the paw down hard. The mouse went flying almost halfway across the room, and the black kitten wasted absolutely no time in straightening up and dashing after it.

The calico's eyes flickered right back to George, and he could have _sworn _the damn thing was smirking at him.

"Okay, _fine_," George huffed a little bit, crossing his legs and frowning at the cat. "So you did know what to do. And I didn't. Sue me." The cat's whiskers twitched slightly, but it only ducked its head and rasped its tongue over its paws before settling down, whisking its tail over its front paws and watching the black kitten dash toward them again, mouse in its jaws once more.

The kitten dropped the toy, eyes sparkling, and stood back. George picked it up and, this time fairly sure he understood the point of the little game, he threw it across the room. The kitten rose and shot after the stuffed mouse at once, simply a black streak now as it ran, and George snorted slightly as he sank back against the wall and shook his head with a very faint smile on his face. "Didn't know cats could play fetch…"

The look the calico gave him after that was a look of pure offense, so George decided it best to keep his mouth shut for a while after that. So he fell silent, nothing left to say, and simply continued throwing the toy for the kitten when it came racing back each time to deliver it right back. It was actually kind of relaxing, if he was honest.

Charlie still wasn't awake, though, by the time the muggles seemed to be closing the shop up for the night. And by this point, he had several cats curled up around him and overtop of him. A ginger one - large, fat and fluffy - had stretched across his brother's chest, its head completely covering Charlie's face, and he genuinely wondered how his brother could even breathe properly that way.

He sighed, tossing the toy for the kitten one last time, and stood up. The calico, who hadn't moved an inch and simply continued to watch him through narrowed green eyes - rather similar to the black kitten's, George noted absently - stood with him as if expecting something.

George blinked down at the cat for a moment, then simply stepped past it and headed over to his brother, crouching down beside him. The ginger cat peeked an eye open and looked at him, eyes narrowing to slits as if warning him not to disturb its "bed", and George just gave an apologetic smile before reaching down to shake Charlie awake. "Charles-"

"_**FUCKING CLOWNS-**_" Charlie shrieked at once, jolting rather suddenly and sitting up. The ginger cat that had been sprawled across his chest took straight off across the room, diving into one of the tunnels, and most of the other ones that were curled up nearby ended up dashing off, as well. A white cat that had been curled up near Charlie's head merely raised its own, ears perked, and gave a tired meow as if asking why its sleep had been interrupted.

A soft snort beside him drew George's attention to the calico cat, who had stopped beside him and was staring at Charlie with a mixture of reproach and disgust in its green gaze, nose twitching slightly.

George shook his head and looked back up at Charlie, quirking his eyebrows expectantly. "Good morning, brother…"

"What?" Charlie's head whipped around toward one of the windows, and while he seemed to relax slightly upon realizing that it was not, in fact, actually morning, he still seemed rather on edge. Groaning, he propped himself up against the wall and pressed a hand over his eyes, letting out a low, slightly shaky sigh and shaking his head. "Merlin's beard…"

The calico meowed at him, and George could practically hear the contempt.

"We should probably get going…" George turned his head slightly, glancing back out at the muggles in the other room. "I think they're closing." He raised a hand, rubbing his eyes with a sigh. Now he _was _a little bit tired, but he had no hopes of sleeping in any case. Just another night, awake, waiting for the day to come… though still unsure what he was expecting with each morning that came, if anything…

"Damn," Charlie mumbled, clearly still pretty much half-asleep. "Yeah, okay."

George reached a hand down to help him up, which Charlie accepted after a few seconds with a low sigh. He turned his head slightly, a frown forming on his lips as he looked away and glanced around the room. The black kitten was nowhere to be found, having dashed off rather quickly after Charlie's outburst. He was a little disappointed, but he brushed it off after a moment. Had he wanted to bring the kitten home, yes. But he hadn't really expected to, not really.

"You okay?" Charlie mumbled groggily, his hazy eyes filled with concern as he peered at his younger brother, who eventually just gave a swift shake of his head and turned back to Charlie with a soft sigh.

"Yeah. Let's just-"

George's words were cut off by a sudden, loud yowl, and he visibly flinched in surprise before looking down. The calico cat had stood, glaring at him intensely through narrowed green eyes. He paused slightly, leaning back, and watched at the cat spun on its paws and strode off in the other direction, toward one of the tunnels. George looked back at Charlie for a moment, noting that his brother had the same slightly scared, bewildered expression on his face that he did.

"I'm out…" Charlie started, extending his hand for George to take, but the wizard only paused and looked back in the calico cat's direction. It glanced back at them, glaring at George again, before ducking into the tunnel with another loud, startling meow. "... George?"

"I swear to Merlin, that cat is…" George trailed off, huffing out a soft, mirthless laugh. "Almost as terrifying as Mum." He shook his head and turned back, ready to take Charlie's hand so they could apparate away. Only to pause at another sudden meow, this one more muffled than the last one, but just as loud. And George paused, exchanging an odd look with Charlie, before turning around once more.

The calico cat was back, strutting up to them with its head raised, tail lashing. And, surprisingly enough, it was carrying the little black kitten. The kitten looked up at George, green eyes meeting the wizard's with ease, and it let out a small, squeaky _mrowr_ and a soft grunt when the calico cat dropped him at George's feet. Then, looking up and giving George a pointed stare, the calico let out a low hiss and another sharp meow.

"... I can see what you mean," Charlie mumbled, staring at the cat with a dumbfounded expression. The calico hissed again, but its eyes were all for George.

The kitten pranced forward and butted its head against George's leg, a purr rumbling in its chest again, and the wizard crouched down after a moment to pick it up. The calico raised a paw, however, before he could, swiping at his hands with its claws unsheathed. George jerked back just in time, barely avoiding having his fingers clawed off, and the calico took a few steps forward and bared its teeth at him.

He looked back down at it, confused and honestly a little scared for his life. But then he registered the green, a bright minty color, the _exact _same shade as the black kitten's were, and he understood. This was the kitten's mother.

And she was staring at George with such intensity that it honestly really did feel like he was staring into his own mother's eyes. The glare was clear, the message easily read; _hurt him, and I'll hurt you much worse. _The wizard didn't say a word, didn't move his gaze from the calico's. Until, finally, seeming satisfied that she had gotten her message across, she sheathed her claws, nudged the black kitten forward again, and took a step back.

George reached down again, a little more hesitantly this time, and lifted the kitten into his arms with a deep frown on his face now, a bit worried. But she didn't move this time, just watched intently as George picked the black kitten up, and the little creature snuggled deep into his arms as it had before with a content purr.

"So," George breathed, staring at the calico cat with a mixture of intrigue and fear. "I suppose I'm keeping the kitten after all."

"Yeah, seems that way," Charlie replied, sounding just as puzzled as George felt. But after a moment of silence, he reached over and clasped his hand over his younger brother's shoulder, squeezing slightly. "Well, in that case, s'pose we should be getting back to the Burrow now."

George blinked, and opened his mouth to explain to his brother that they hadn't actually _adopted _the kitten yet, but he couldn't get a word out before Charlie was already apparating the two of them away and straight back home.

The second they appeared in the house, everything was dead quiet. Even the kitten had stopped its soft meowing, seeming startled at the sudden change. Charlie put a finger to his own lips to shush George, who resisted the urge to roll his eyes and just gave a small nod, pressing the kitten a little closer to his chest and burying his face into the soft black fur.

After a long moment, and still no sound, Charlie visibly relaxed and flashed George the biggest grin ever, spreading his hands out slightly. "Just in time. Parents aren't home yet, we've still got the entire house to ourselves and probably another good few hours to kill before we have to worry about a thing. Mum and Dad'll never even know we were gone for so long, and if you're quick, you can h-"

"_CHARLES AND GEORGE WEASLEY, WHERE ON __**EARTH **__HAVE YOU __**BEEN?!**_"

The smile on Charlie's face vanished the second he heard his mother's voice screeching his name, and George visibly flinched. The kitten let out a startled squeal and promptly launched straight out of his arms, only to stuff itself straight down George's shirt, clinging to him, claws digging into his ribs as it held itself as close to him as possible with another terrified _mew_. George put his hands over it through the shirt, a feeble attempt to keep the kitten completely out of sight as his mother stormed into the room, followed swiftly by Bill and Percy, who seemed to be trying to calm her down for the most part.

"Great Merlin…" Ron mumbled as he trailed along behind them, and Ginny poked her head in through the doorway, a mixture of amusement and satisfaction on her face as she stuck her tongue out at her older brothers with a nasty, Weasley-like grin. George glowered at her slightly, wincing when the kitten's claws dug in just a _little _bit deeper.

His mother was seething as she stopped in front of the two, hands on her hips. Charlie ducked his head at once, looking toward George with a somewhat apologetic expression- but, oh, no, George was absolutely not dealing with this shit today, nuh uh. "Mum-" He started, trying not to flinch when she turned the full force of her disapproving glare onto him. "In our complete defense…" He raised a hand, and pointed at Charlie. "Charles made me, I didn't want to go."

Charlie visibly twitched at that, and stared at his brother with a mixture of disbelief and betrayal in his eyes. George gave a one-shouldered shrug in response. When it came to Molly Weasley, it was practically every man for himself in this house.

"Mum, look, they're alright," Percy soothed, placing a hand on his mother's shoulder as she squinted at the boys, still scowling rather deeply. "See? They're home. They just went out for a bit, is all. You didn't really expect them to be here all day, did you? Especially not Charlie. I mean, we all know George is a bit of a hermit-"

"_Really_?" George hissed, and Percy paused.

"I didn't mean-" Percy spared him an exasperated look. "You don't need to get all defensive now, you know! I'm _trying _to help you here," he insisted. George grimaced and opened his mouth to speak, only to let out a startled yelp when the kitten's claws sank in even deeper. At that point George was pretty sure he was bleeding, and the kitten was showing absolutely no signs of letting go anytime soon. He tried to move its paws through his shirt, get it to loosen its grip for even just a second of relief, but by then it was too late anyway, as Molly, Bill and Percy were already staring at the lump in his shirt while Ron peered around them, and Ginny remained in the doorway, squinting inside to see why her mother had stopped screaming.

"George," his mother sounded a bit strange now, less angry, but the warning tone hadn't left her voice. The wizard grimaced slightly and looked up, fighting back a small wince when she moved forward. His mother had never raised a hand against him, don't get me wrong here - but she was still terrifying as hell all the same, anyway, when she was angry. A one-woman army, indeed. "What've you got there?"

"Yeah, George," Ron added, interest piqued as he moved forward a bit, but stayed slightly behind his mother, clearly not trying to invoke any of her wrath for himself. George gave them both a look of desperation, before just shaking his head and tugging his shirt up with one hand, closing the other one around the kitten's scruff the moment he could. The claws detached from his skin instantly, and he pulled the kitten up, dropping his shirt, to settle it back into the crook of his arms. Where it huddled down instantly, staring at the others through wide, frightened eyes.

He could practically see his mother's face soften at once, and even Percy seemed to warm slightly when he saw the kitten. Ron just looked extremely confused and maybe even a little horrified by the cat in the house, and Bill wore a mostly neutral expression as he watched. Ginny, however, had managed to squeeze her way in and was staring at the kitten with a mixture of awe and delight on her face, cooing softly at it as if it were a baby.

"George Weasley…" His mother sighed and brought a hand up, pinching the bridge of her nose and staring down at the kitten. She didn't seem angry anymore though, thankfully enough, and George looked down at the kitten, intrigued by its ability to seemingly diminish any negative emotions at first sight. The little thing was just staring at Molly, nose twitching slightly as its big green eyes focused on her, blinking softly.

And that was it.

His mother shuffled forward, reaching for the kitten, and George handed it over at once. "Tiny thing must be hungry. I'll get something fixed up for it for supper, maybe a saucer of milk." She rubbed her thumb over the kitten's head, and it leaned into the contact with a purr. Its green eyes flickered back toward George, and the wizard could have sworn it smiled at him.

George's lips twitched upwards in response, watching it quietly. _Nice going, little guy._

"As for you two," his mother's stern tone was back, not quite angry, but still quite miffed at both of her sons. "Both of you, upstairs and changed immediately. You are very lucky your father persuaded me not to just have dinner without you," she added warningly. "You'd better both be down in thirty minutes or so help me-"

"We got it- We got it, Mum," Charlie interrupted quickly, and his mother narrowed her eyes at him but nodded, seeming satisfied. Charlie let out a soft, relieved sigh and glanced over at George quizzically before finally just spinning around to head upstairs, shaking his head almost at himself as he went. George glanced after him, watching him disappear, before he turned his gaze back to the kitten. His mother was bouncing it softly in her arms by now, and the little thing was just eating up the attention happily, purring and nuzzling her all the while.

His mother looked up at him then, and her eyes narrowed, mouth opening as if to warn him again, but she stopped. Possibly because George had a soft, genuine smile on his face now, watching the kitten in silence. The second he caught his mother's gaze though, it vanished into a guilty expression, and he took a few steps back before rushing up the stairs after Charlie. "Sorry, sorry, going…"

"Thanks a lot, by the way," Charlie hissed at him as soon as he reached the top of the stairs, though he didn't really seem angry - in fact, his mouth was twitching, as if fighting a smile. "I mean, I get it, not wanting to be the center of Mum's rage - I mean, who would want that - but did you have to throw me under the broomstick?"

George gave an apologetic shrug as he headed for his room, hesitating slightly as his hand lingered on the doorknob. "Don't worry, Charles…" He paused a bit, taking in a breath, and forced a smile at him. "I think little Nox down there has everything quite sorted out with Mum as far as that goes." He pushed the door open, stepping inside, and his smile faded into a frown.

"Nox, huh?" Charlie leaned sideways against the doorway and crossed his arms, watching him with a faint frown, himself, but George didn't really see. He headed for his closet, especially careful not to look at or touch anything else in the room, as he pulled the door open and began to sift through his clothes. "That's a cute name."

"S'fitting."

"I agree."

George went silent for a long time, continuing to sift through his clothes, pulling out a few shirts but tossing them back in after a few moments. He sighed a little to himself, reaching in toward the back of his closet with a frown. It took a while to find a shirt he actually wanted to wear, one that he didn't exactly associate with his brother since, for the most part, they wore identical clothing just for the hell of it.

"So…" Charlie trailed off for a few seconds, watching him intently. George glanced back at him with a questioning expression on his face before turning away again, reaching into the closet for a pair of pants this time. It didn't take much to decide on a pair, since, for the most part the pants were more or less identical, so it didn't really matter too much anyway. He threw the clothes onto his bed, debating on whether or not to take a quick shower, but he decided against it. He wasn't really feeling up to that right now. "Did you have fun today?"

George paused a little and looked over at his older brother, eyebrows furrowing. Charlie stared back at him, his expression serious but soft. Not quite patronizing, as the others seemed, and not really _concerned_, either. Just… warm. Real. And he hesitated a little bit, honestly unsure. He could force a smile and tell Charlie he had… or he could just say he had, anyway, without any smiles at all, forced or not. Because even if he didn't quite feel like smiling right then, he wasn't going to deny that today had been significantly better than the other days since the incident.

"Yeah," he finally replied, quietly, honestly, as he met his brother's gaze again. "Yeah, I think I did, Charlie." At this, a smile tugged at Charlie's lips instantly, eyes lighting up. George marveled at that for a moment, eyebrows furrowing. He could get a smile out of Charlie so easily, without even doing anything - without even really _trying_. But when it came to the others, even his smiles, and his jokes, and everything he used to do couldn't seem to make them crack even the smallest grin in response.

He didn't understand it. What was he doing wrong with them, that he seemed to be doing right with Charlie?

"Well, I'm gonna go get ready." Charlie stretched slightly. "And let you change." He smiled at George again before turning away, presumably to head back to the room he, Bill and Percy were currently sharing at the moment. George paused a bit, leaning slightly against his bed and twisting his hands into the blanket, biting down on his lower lip thoughtfully.

He was speaking before he could really register what he was doing, his voice quieter than before but loud enough to be heard in the silence. "Charlie?"

Charlie paused and looked back at him, the warm expression returning to his face as he turned completely to face his younger brother, eyebrows raising questioningly, his eyes never leaving George's. "Yeah?"

George took a deep breath and looked back up to meet his gaze again, offering a tiny smile. Not as forced or over-done as the huge grins he gave to everyone else, but not quite as genuine as he would have liked it to have been, either. It was warm, all the same, but he just couldn't really _feel _it as much as he should have been. "Thanks."

Charlie blinked. His lips twitched, faintly, and he even let out a low chuckle before just giving a small nod to his younger brother, his soft eyes continuing to search George's for a good few seconds before he just grinned. "Anytime, George."

For just a second, George's smile warmed a little bit as well, genuine for about half a second, and that was enough. with one last smile in his direction, Charlie turned and headed off, knocking on the doorway to George's room a few times as he left in a silent goodbye before he vanished into the hall. George sank back a bit, sitting on the edge of his bed, and crossed his legs over his arms with a sigh as he pressed his eyes shut and nodded.

All in all, it wasn't the _worst _day George had ever had.

But the night wasn't over yet.


	8. Chapter 8

Percy had never prided himself on his empathy.

Truth was, he just didn't have it. Not as much as his brothers did. He couldn't feel all soft and sappy like Charlie, and he couldn't be as laid-back and cool as Bill. He couldn't be as emotional as Ron was, he couldn't be as happy as Fred and George had been together, and being anything like Ginny was pretty much out of the question. A lot of the time, he had always wondered why he couldn't feel the way they seemed to, why he just didn't ever have it in him. The truth of the matter was Percy had never really felt things to the extreme that his siblings did as far as emotions go. He felt a drive, a push, to be the best he could be. Because he'd just had that kind of pressure his entire life, to exceed, to _succeed_, to break past all limitations and become as great as Bill and Charlie had.

Yet, he couldn't, and he couldn't because he just wasn't _like _them. He didn't have the empathy, the nurturing. Just the drive, the push. Which is what led him to be able to betray them like he had, to turn himself over to the Ministry. They had promised greatness, which, he _thought _was what his parents had wanted from him. But it was only during his time there that Percy had really begun to experience the kind of things they had to deal with on a day-to-day basis. The emotions. The guilt. The shame. The pain. He missed them, every day. And he couldn't deny it.

The Battle of Hogwarts had been the most terrifying, most shocking, most horrifying experience of his life. Because the entire time, as he fought, his mind was focused on his family. Ginny was the first one, being the youngest, his baby sister. He needed to protect her. And of course Ron. Then Fred and George, but they had always had each other's backs. At least Percy had always thought so. It seemed like the worst only happened to them when they had been separated, like when George had lost his ear, and when Fred had lost his life. His brother's death had been, quite possibly, the worst thing that had ever happened to Percy, and it brought much more pain than he let on. Than he was willing to admit.

He had never gotten along with him, sure, he'd never gotten along with any of them. But Fred was his brother. Fred was the first to forgive him. Fred was the last one he had spoken to before it happened, before the explosion, before the blood and the screams and before Fred had fallen to the ground, eyes empty, with a permanent grin etched straight across his face. For as long as he lived, that expression would haunt Percy forever. His brother's face would haunt Percy forever. And there was just nothing he could do about that.

Finally feeling the things he should have been took its toll on him, for sure. In fact, it was just so much that Percy genuinely wasn't sure how much more of it he could really take, and what he preferred. In some ways he supposed it was better to feel the pain than to feel nothing at all. But in other ways he couldn't deny that this was, by far, the worst thing to be feeling now that he could.

Maybe Fred was right. Maybe Percy couldn't imagine the pain of losing a twin. But even if he hadn't been as close to Fred as George was, it didn't mean it hurt any less.

He sighed a little to himself as he leaned against the counter, watching the dish sponge scrubbing at a plate floating in the air. He wasn't even sure what he was doing awake at this point. He should be upstairs, asleep, or at least lying in bed awake musing over his childhood room, seeing how much it had changed and yet how it had remained exactly the same. But Percy couldn't bring himself to sleep, not tonight. It wasn't like he _wasn't _sleeping, no, he was getting good rest despite the nightmares that occurred almost every time he shut his eyes, but he just couldn't tonight. He felt too restless, like he was supposed to be doing something.

Seeing Fred had made it a lot better, he would admit. But he still felt the same guilt as before. Thinking maybe if he hadn't been so distracted, and if he hadn't distracted Fred just as much, his brother would still be alive. He seemed to enjoy being a ghost, as far as Percy could tell he thought it was pretty cool, but he knew Fred would still give just about anything to be by George's side again, and to be reunited with his family once more.

And it was so stupid, but Percy really couldn't help himself from wondering if maybe there was a way to get him back, too. If they could at least bring him back to the house. Yes, he was well aware that he couldn't bring Fred back to life - the dead should stay dead, even he knew that - but he also knew that a lot of ghosts weren't just tied to one specific place, and it certainly wasn't the place they had died in either. Typically, they latched onto some kind of object, or, in rare cases, a person. In all honesty, Percy was more surprised that Fred hadn't latched onto George, if anything. But all ghosts were different, and he probably couldn't help that one. Percy knew just as well as anybody that Fred would much rather have been here than Hogwarts. Especially with George.

But this still left him with a lot to figure out. He pursed his lips and rested his chin on his hand, closing his eyes for a moment. The house was silent as ever, and Percy would have relished a night like this any other time. But somehow it only made him feel more alone than anything. And he wondered if that's how Fred felt, thousands of miles away. He wondered if Fred needed to sleep, and if he was able to. He wondered if he was okay. He wondered if he thought back to the Battle of Hogwarts, too. He wondered if he remembered his own death. He wondered if it hurt. He wondered until all the thoughts in his head nearly drove him completely crazy. But even then he couldn't quite stop, either. There were so many questions. And so little time to ask.

He blinked a few times, the sting of the tears surprising him slightly. A few caught onto his eyelashes, blurring his vision uncomfortably for a good few seconds before he sucked in a shaky breath and rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes. It was harder now, to mask any other emotions with irritation. He had never really expected pain like _this_, and he hadn't expected it to last this long. The truth was, he had never really thought of death like this.

He had never thought of his siblings _dying_. Any of them.

I mean… sure, yes, the thought crossed his mind. But who really thinks about those things _genuinely_? Honestly, Percy thought he'd be glad. Or, at least, he imagined being glad. This wasn't anything like how he'd imagined, but he wasn't surprised. That was fantasy. This was reality. This was real. And for once, for the first time in his life, Percy couldn't escape.

After a moment, the wizard exhaled shakily and headed over to the table to sit down. Sinking back into a chair, he pressed his elbows to the table and buried his face into his hands, fingers gripping his hair, and took in a slow breath that didn't come back out for a good few seconds. As much grief as he was feeling - or, honestly, it wasn't even that, it was _guilt _\- he hadn't even cried yet. He hadn't cried at Fred's funeral, he hadn't cried afterwards. There were a few tears when he'd seen Fred fall, yes. Tears he hadn't been able to fight - he'd been too stunned. But even now, there wasn't much to fight. It wasn't like he was actively repressing his emotions now, or trying to pretend they didn't exist, no, he wasn't George.

… Okay, that was a low blow, but Percy couldn't really help that.

Honestly, most of his aggravation toward George stemmed from the same guilt. Seeing how hard George had taken everything - and what had Percy expected, really? - how much he was suffering over it. But still, the guy couldn't even bring himself to _talk _to them, to open up to them? Even Percy had gone to his parents, and Bill, and Charlie, about everything he was feeling before. But George wasn't even doing that. He'd caught his first glimpse of his brother that day since everything had happened. And as easy as it was to see how broken George was inside, the forced smiles he was giving everyone only made it worse.

And it was _Percy's fault_. _He _had done that. He was the reason Fred wasn't there. He was the reason George was hurting. The reason everyone was. And, to be honest, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that it should have been him, instead.

He swallowed hard, trying to force back the lump that had risen to his throat, and let out a low sigh as more tears formed. None of them spilled, not because he was fighting them, but because they just- couldn't. Regardless, he rubbed his sleeve over his eyes and cleared his throat, dropping his hands to fold his arms over the table and lifting his gaze back to the sink.

He wanted to try and do what Fred had told him - he wanted to be a little more sympathetic toward George. Because, yes, he was sure George was feeling just as lost and helpless as everyone else. Even more so, because he didn't even know he could talk to Fred again, didn't know he could see his face again, hug him again, laugh with him again. He had absolutely no fucking idea. So if it still hurt like this, for Percy, who had just seen his dead brother only hours ago - then, no, he couldn't imagine how George was feeling. But he couldn't imagine it, also, because George was refusing to even admit that he _was _feeling.

The sound of the stairs creaking caught his attention, quietly drawing his wand from his pocket and pointing it at the dishes, causing the dish sponge to stop in place.

He looked up, expecting his mother, or maybe Ron or Ginny coming for a cup of water in the middle of the night. What he didn't _quite _expect was George, shuffling into the kitchen quietly, rubbing his arm over his eyes with an exhausted expression on his face and his wand in hand. He pointed it at the coffee maker, which began moving at once to begin brewing coffee, and George's hand fell onto the back of one of the chairs to pull it out and sit down while he waited. Only for him to finally look up, his gaze finding Percy from across the table, and he froze.

"... Hi," Percy said quietly after a few moments, meeting his brother's gaze steadily. George stayed silent for a good few seconds, eventually just continuing what he was doing and pulling the chair out to sit down, staring at his brother with an almost wary expression on his face. Percy bit his lip and shook his head a bit, trying not to think about it. "It's late."

"Oh," George mumbled, and his tone was flat as he responded. "I didn't notice."

Unsure whether or not to take offense to the sarcasm, or just be glad George was joking, even the slightest bit, Percy just let out a low sigh and raised his arms. He clasped one hand over the back of his neck and ducked his head a little bit, nodding. He didn't really have any right to question on why George was up so late, anyway, considering Percy had been sitting here for a good few hours since everyone else had turned in for the night. Though, to be fair, George looked a lot more exhausted than Percy was. And he was brewing coffee. Honestly, Percy was getting the impression that George hadn't even been sleeping - for a while.

Not that he would blame him, but it wasn't healthy, either.

George grimaced slightly and let out a low sigh, suddenly bringing his hand up to press against his mouth. Percy glanced up for a second, watching him. Fred did that quite often too, he'd noticed. It was funny, he really only started seeing the similarities between them when they were apart. Aside from the obvious ones, at least.

"Perce…" George suddenly sighed and lifted his head again, dropping his hand from his mouth and gesturing vaguely at nothing in particular, a worn look on his face. "I'm sorry, man, I just…"

Despite himself, Percy let out a low, tired chuckle and shook his head a little bit, folding his arms back over the table and shrugging his shoulders at his brother. George just stared at him, eyebrows twitching together for a second and eyes narrowing faintly, almost seeming confused, before the expression was masked again. Percy opened his mouth, but shut it after a moment, fighting back the rising irritation at once. So George wasn't an open kind of guy when it came to emotions. Come to think of it, why did Percy care so much about that in particular, anyways?

So he opted for a lighter tone instead, tugging his lips upwards into a smile and trying to remind himself that he loved his brother, and he didn't want to murder him _all _the time. "S'okay. I get it." He shrugged, a teasing spark entering his gaze. "You haven't had your coffee yet."

"You're-" George's eyebrows rose slightly, and the corners of his mouth twitched just faintly as he cocked his head at his brother, leaning back in his chair and gripping the edge of the table. Somehow, Percy already knew what he was going to say. He knew it, and he hated it, and he braced himself for it. And he marveled over the irony, over how they really were twins to the end, down to every last detail, every last word. George hadn't even been there to hear it; This was all his own. "You're _joking_, Perce."

* * *

"_You're joking, Perce!"_

_Fred grinned over at his older brother, who shot a quick glance back up at him for a second, gripping his wand tighter than ever. The grin on Fred's face was enough to make Percy's lips tug upwards into his own smile, and he even offered a quick wink to his brother in response. Fred didn't seem too distracted yet, though, because he quickly spun around in order to take down one of the Death Eater's he was up against, sending it crashing with a simple Stunning Spell._

_Percy glanced down at the Minister, who had fallen at that point, the spikes already beginning to form. The wizard grinned and twirled his wand, giving a small shrug and turning his gaze back over to Fred, who had turned back to him with an even wider grin. And, catching the mirth sparkling through Percy's eyes, a huff of laughter broke through his lips._

"_You actually are joking, Perce!" He exclaimed, looking totally awed as he moved toward his brother, one hand raised slightly, as if for a high five. "I haven't heard you joke since you were-"_

* * *

Percy cringed, visibly, the sound of the explosion still ringing through his ears, even after the memory had long ended.

"Percy?" Across the table, George hadn't moved an inch, but he stared at Percy with a look of complete concern written across his pale features. He reached out a little, tapping the table just inches from Percy's hands, and his voice was oddly quiet as he spoke next, as if scared of startling his brother from the memory he had already forced himself out of. "You alright, mate?"

Percy blinked, swallowed, and nodded after only a split second of hesitation, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "Yeah. I'm alright, sorry. Zoned out for a moment there, I suppose I'm a bit more tired than I realized." He shook his head, as if to shake the thoughts off. He definitely wouldn't be sleeping after that, though, and that was just for certain. George didn't look convinced, but he didn't press, pulling his hand back with a sigh.

"You ought to sleep, then."

"I could say the same to you, you know," Percy responded with a soft, but forced chuckle, eyebrows knitting together tiredly as he studied his younger brother. George's expression faltered slightly, before he just shook his head, masking it again with seemingly practiced ease.

The irritation rose again. Percy bit his lip and fought it down.

Percy cleared his throat, eyes darting toward the coffee maker, and he gave a small pause before offering the faintest of smiles to his younger brother, who quirked an eyebrow at him questioningly, confusion sparkling through his pale eyes. "Think there's enough in there for two?" He nodded toward the coffee maker, which was still whirring, and George followed his gaze. He didn't quite smile, but he wasn't frowning as deeply when he responded.

"Sure, Perce."

Silence fell between them after that, aside from the sound of the coffee maker, but Percy didn't mind. After a long moment, George ended up lowering his head to his arms and pressing the backs of his hands into his mouth, eyes slipping shut. But he sat stiff, shoulders tense, ready to sit up again the second the coffee maker beeped - he was determined, Percy could tell, not to sleep. Which made him wonder exactly how horrible his nightmares had to be to completely prevent him from sleeping, because Merlin knows Percy would never risk sleep-deprivation just from a few nightmares that kept him up for a few hours at night. When he couldn't sleep, he couldn't sleep. But when he could, he did. That was just… _that_.

He had so many questions he wanted to ask George, too. So many things he wanted to say. But he could never quite bring himself to do so, and he didn't think he would ever be able to, to be completely honest.

He wondered if George had questions that he'd never be able to ask, too. Or that he wouldn't be able to right now.

Percy sighed and lifted his gaze again, focusing on George once more. He was completely still, his expression neutral, but every so often his eyebrows would twitch, and he would wince faintly on occasion, eyes squeezing shut even tighter and his hands twitching every so often. Still, he didn't lift his head or sit back, and for the longest time, Percy honestly thought he was falling asleep. And he hesitated, debating on whether to wake him or not. Because on one hand, he knew George couldn't just sleep at the table - but on the other, he _needed _to sleep, obviously.

But, turns out, he didn't have to do anything. The second the coffee maker beeped, George's head lifted as if he'd been ready for it the entire time, eyes blinking open as he pushed his chair back and stood up. Percy watched in silence as he headed over, waving his wand with a frown and dragging two cups from one of the cupboards, leaning against the counter and grabbing the coffee pot. He poured one cup, which he leaned over to set on the table in front of Percy, before turning back to pour his own.

"Thanks, G," Percy murmured, and George just gave a small hum and a nod in response, acknowledgement, before the silence fell again.

"Y'want anything with it?" George asked after a few moments, breaking the silence as he opened the fridge to grab a carton of milk. Percy paused and looked down at the coffee for a second, then simply shook his head and wrapped his fingers around the cup, ignoring the slight burn as he lifted it up and took a small sip. George watched him with a mixture of disbelief, disgust and yet, managed to look impressed at the same time. "That's _disgusting, _Percy."

Percy chuckled despite himself, licking his lips and swallowing down the scalding hot coffee with a small shrug. He sank back and let his head fall back, against the back of the chair, as he turned his gaze to his younger brother with a shrug. "What can I say, I like my coffee like I like my soul. Black and bitter."

George very nearly spit out his own coffee, a few startled laughs escaping his lips, and Percy's lips tugged into a slight grin as he dropped his gaze to his cup for only a second before he looked back up. George was staring at him, a smile on his face and a look of complete glee sparkling through his eyes. And just like before, Percy somehow knew what was coming.

"You actually _are _joking, Perce…" George let out a soft snort and lifted the cup back to his lips. "I haven't heard you joke since you were…"

Percy screwed his eyes shut and tried to ignore the sounds of explosions echoing through his head, the angry screeching and pain-filled cries of the battlefield and the sight of wands flailing, curses and spells yelled every second as someone either fought to defend themselves or they aimed to kill. He tried to push the image of his brother's face out of his mind, the empty eyes and the ghost of a grin that would haunt his memory forever.

"No, I don't think I ever have," George was mumbling, seeming completely oblivious to Percy's internal struggle, which had, more or less, to do with the fact that he was struggling even harder to keep any kind of expression off of his face right then. "Tonight would certainly be the first…"

For a moment, he detached, and for a moment that night was the only thing he could see.

* * *

_The blood, the screams, the sparks and wild red or green - or even blue - lights coming from the wands of the fighting witches and wizards as they clashed across the battlefield, was the only thing Percy could focus on. He could hardly breathe - and he couldn't __**think**__. Side by side with Fred, they made their way forward, fighting past Death Eaters and barely avoiding being caught in the middle of a few vicious one-on-one battles. Percy flinched a little, watching a rush of green magic hit a Death Eater head on, watching them fall, and his breath caught slightly. Evil or not, it was hard to watch - it was hard being surrounded by so much fighting, so much death… _

_Looking toward Fred, he was a little startled to see his brother had the same expression on his face, the same kind of grim reluctance that Percy was feeling. He didn't want to be there anymore than anyone else did - but he was, and he was, because he was fighting for Hogwarts._

_He took in a breath, determination returning, and spun around just in time to block an attack heading his way. A quick "Protego!" sent it straight back to the Death Eater who had fired it, and Fred raised his head a bit to watch, a small grin breaking across his face as he spared his older brother an approving look. Percy looked over at him, silent for a while, before managing to crack his own smile. There was nobody else Percy would have wanted to fight beside, nothing else he'd rather be fighting for. His family needed him._

"_You know, it's so weird," Fred suddenly breathed, lifting his eyes to the sky for a second before his head suddenly whirled around. He raised his wand at once, wide-eyed as a blast of green magic went straight toward him; Percy reached over and yanked him back just in time, pulling them both down, as the spell simply crashed into the wall behind them. Fred's arm looped around his, gripping at his wrist tightly, and Percy could barely breathe as he looked over his brother's head and searched for the witch or wizard who had dared to send the Killing Curse at his younger brother._

"_Gits…" Fred muttered after a moment, seemingly trying to pretend he wasn't as shaken from that as he must have been. "Anyway, what I was saying… It's weird… I'm here with you." His eyes narrowed a little, face twisting slightly, more or less into a contemplative look as he glanced over at Percy. "I always thought…"_

_Percy let out a huff of dry laughter, slowly bringing his eyes back to his brother. "That you'd only be in a completely dangerous, near-death situation if it was with George?"_

"_Generally." Fred's head rose, and he jerked himself up all of a sudden, pointing his wand at something just past Percy. He ducked a little, turning his head to watch as his brother's spell hit a Death Eater head on, the wand falling just beside Percy as the Death Eater was forced back, and fell, grasping at their throat with a choked gasp._

"_Thanks," Percy muttered wearily, forcing himself back to his feet. Fred simply clasped a hand over his shoulder and continued forcing them both forward, pushing them through the battlefield. He seemed a little miffed now, the same kind of anger Percy had felt when Fred had been attacked seeming to radiate off of his younger brother in strong, powerful bursts. It was the first time Percy had really seen Fred so serious before - even up until now, while he grimaced occasionally, he would crack a few jokes and a grin and try to relieve the tension in his own way. Now, though, it seemed he was all business._

_He pulled them inside and stopped, just in the doorway, both of them breathing heavily. Fred sank back against the wall for a few seconds and covered his face with a hand, slowly dragging it down to cover his mouth, and Percy straightened and spared a quick glance out again, cursing under his breath. "They're heading straight for the castle, Fred."_

"_No, really?" Fred dropped his hand slightly, peering at him. "Who would've expected-?"_

"_Shut up, smartass," Percy mumbled, grabbing the front of his cloak and pulling him forward. "Just come on, we need to find the others."_

"_Yeah…" Fred's eyes flickered, darting just over his head, and that grim look was back on his face. His mouth twisted, lips pressing into a thin line, and his eyes seemed to harden. Percy was more shaken by that than anything else, how his younger brother could manage to look so angry, so serious. "Don't look now, but, we've practically got a hoard…"_

_Percy cursed again, pushed his brother forward, and continued on. Fred spun around as they went, sending a quick knockback jinx at a few Death Eaters in the front of the crowd, before abruptly grabbing Percy's sleeve and yanking him to the side, pulling them both into an empty classroom. Percy stumbled a bit, balancing himself on one of the desks, and Fred leaned back against the wall beside the door and watched the Death Eaters storm past._

"_What are you doing?" Percy shook his head a little, running his fingers through his hair. "We have to stay ahead of them, the others-"_

"_-will figure out that they're here soon enough," Fred replied stiffly, his tone leaving no room for arguments, and Percy snapped his mouth shut and stared at his brother in silent disbelief as Fred spared him nothing more than a simple glance before looking back out the door. "We can't do anything if we're __**dead**__, Perce."_

_His tone changed a bit, on that one word. Slightly colder, but just a little more… resigned. Percy didn't really think much of it, then, watching the last of the Death Eaters pass and disappear down another corridor._

_Fred lifted his gaze to the ceiling, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly. Percy glanced over at him, pushing himself away from the desk and moving forward a little bit to check down the hall, making sure the Death Eaters really were gone. "You know what would be useful right about now?" Fred huffed a little, rubbing his hand over his mouth again. "A broomstick. A broomstick would be __**very **__useful right about now…"_

_Percy blinked and looked over at him, eyes narrowing faintly in consideration. "You do realize where we are, don't you?"_

"_Hell?"_

_Percy shook his head, though he couldn't fight back a small snicker despite himself. His brother wasn't wrong… "Hogwarts, Freddie," he finally sighed, checking down the hall one last time before finally stepping out, gripping his wand tightly. "There's broomsticks around here somewhere." _

"_Fair point, Perce." Fred followed after him, adjusting his robes. His eyes narrowed a little, looking up, and he glanced down the hallway where the Death Eaters had disappeared to. Then, lifting his gaze to the ceiling, he raised an eyebrow and spun around, heading off the other way. "Come on."_

"_Look at you," Percy mumbled, backing up a little and turning with one last, wary glance over his shoulder, following after his younger brother with a frown. "Taking charge."_

"_Hey, I'm keeping us alive," Fred retorted, though a grin was appearing on his face as he smirked over at his older brother, running his fingers through his hair a few times, slicking it back. "I'm also a complete wreck… Percy, when this is over, remind me to take a shower, would you?" _

"_I doubt I'll have to remind you, Fred, but I will," Percy muttered, his frown deepening slightly for a moment. Fred looked over at him, abruptly slowing his pace, and fell into step with him._

"_Galleon for your thoughts, brother."_

"_It's nothing." Percy narrowed his eyes, looking ahead. "Just hate being separated from the others, that's all." He took in a breath, and, giving Fred no real time to respond, he nudged his shoulder against his younger brother's and quickened his pace. "Come on, then, you have a plan, don't you? Better start talking…"_

* * *

Percy inhaled sharply, pupils shrinking, and the cup very nearly slipped from his fingertips and crashed straight to the ground. And it would have, if George hadn't caught it one-handed, the other hand clasped firmly over his older brother's shoulder and his face paler than usual, wide eyes searching Percy's gaze with nothing but pure concern sparkling through his eyes. When he spoke, however, he sounded much more pissed than he looked, though his voice was still strained slightly with worry. "What the hell, Percy?"

George reached out, setting the cup back down on the table, and Percy just shook his head a few good times, eyes wide. He didn't say anything, mouth drier than ever before, and George looked back down at him with a frown. He was silent for a while, himself, regarding his brother as warily as before, but this time the caution seemed to be for a much different reason. "Are you alright?" He finally asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Yes, yes," Percy said quickly, breathless. And, still half-dazed, unfocused, still lingering quite a bit on the memory, he made quite possibly his biggest mistake. And he regretted it the second the words left his lips. "I'm fine, Fred."

George's expression changed in an instant, the second the name left Percy's lips, and he seemed to pale even further as he recoiled and lifted his hand from Percy's shoulder.

Percy realized it in the same second, his expression shifting along with his brother's, and one hand flew up at once to cover his mouth as he stared at George. There was no other reaction, aside from the split-second change in expression, and then George just pressed his eyes shut and drew on a soft, shaky breath, and Percy could see just how much effort it was taking to be able to hold himself together. A wave of helplessness washed over him, feeling about ready to break down then and there, himself, and he dropped his gaze for a few seconds.

Neither of them could speak for a while after that. George just stood, silent, trying to compose himself while Percy just leaned his head back and refused to look at him, folding his hands together in his lap and trying to push down the aching feeling in his chest. _Wonderful, nice going, you idiot, as if you needed to give him something else to hate you for… _He blinked a few times, surprised to feel the tears that had slowly begun building, but they cleared away with a few more blinks.

Eventually, George moved away from him and picked his own cup up off of the counter, walking back around to the other side of the table. Percy opened his mouth, wanting to say something - _anything _\- but he couldn't force any sounds out. He was completely and utterly speechless. And he couldn't even apologize for his mistake.

_Honestly, Percy, _whether it was Fred or George's voice he was hearing now, Percy wasn't sure, but it made him want to laugh and cry at the same time. He did neither, his mouth snapping shut and his teeth gritting together as he screwed his eyes shut. _You call yourself their brother?_

He shook his head, blinked a few times to clear the next rush of tears that had brewed, and reluctantly flicked his gaze up to his younger brother. George had sat back down, legs hooked under the bottom of the chair, and he leaned forward against the table with the cup clutched firmly in both hands. He hadn't taken a sip of it yet, simply staring down with a distraught expression written all over his face. Percy struggled to swallow, wishing he could speak.

What do you say to someone, after making a mistake like that? "I'm sorry" certainly wouldn't be enough right then, Percy knew that for certain.

More or less scared to even try to open his mouth again, lest any other stupid words escaped, Percy simply pushed his cup away and leaned back, feeling just as hopeless and distraught as George looked right then. He tore his gaze away from his brother, focusing instead on the table, and forced in a slow, unsteady breath. He wished he could just tell George everything right then and there, or, even better, he wished he could just drag George to Hogwarts himself, right then. And for a second, he genuinely considered it. Fred wanted it to be a surprise, yes, well, certainly both brothers would be equally surprised if Percy were to simply grab George and apparate into the castle without warning, right? That could work?

He shook his head a little bit at himself and sank back in the chair, leaning his head back and looking up at the dark ceiling with a deep frown on his face.

He wasn't expecting George to speak, so he jumped quite a bit when he did. He inhaled sharply and shook his head a little bit, turning his gaze back to his younger brother as he spoke, and his mouth went completely dry the second George had finished.

"... you were with him that night, weren't you?"

Percy sucked in a breath that didn't come back out, holding it for a long time as he met his brother's gaze. George finally looked up, sitting back a little in his chair and meeting Percy's gaze with the same kind of wariness, with an expression that pretty much screamed he didn't really want to know, but he was asking. Truthfully enough, Percy didn't want to answer. He didn't want to say anything, and he didn't want to relive that night, he didn't want to _talk _about it. But George was asking, and this was the first time since it happened that he had actually said anything about that night… and about _Fred_.

Unable to speak, Percy just nodded.

George's face crumbled slightly, and for a second Percy genuinely thought he was going to break down right then and there. He tensed, ready to rush right over to his younger brother, and comfort him however he could. But George composed himself rather quickly, swallowing hard, and raised both hands to his face, rubbing them down slowly over his eyes.

"Was… was…" George took in a shaky breath, letting it out slowly, and blinked a few times. Percy couldn't really see through the darkness - and truth be told, he wasn't sure if he wanted to - but he was half certain that his younger brother was crying. Percy let out a shuddering sigh and sank back just a little bit more, blinking rapidly to clear his own vision, as George struggled to continue. "Did it… was it…"

His gaze met Percy's again, and the older wizard swallowed and sighed again, seeing how much effort it was taking just for George to hold himself together. But it was the most open that George had been with him since the incident - hell, it was the most open George had been with him _ever_. He wasn't going to turn him away now, no matter how much it hurt to see him like this. "Was it…?" He finally spoke, quiet, his voice soft and low as he studied his brother's face.

George's mouth opened slightly, taking in another slow breath, but it was a good few seconds before he managed to force the words out. They were slightly rushed, and his voice cracked a lot more than he probably would have liked, but he managed to get it out, and that was what mattered. "Was it _fast_?"

That hit Percy like a blow straight to the stomach, solid ice sinking straight to his gut. If he thought he couldn't breathe before, he was suffocating now.

* * *

_Fred was dead before he hit the ground._

_Already covered in blood, the smile still etched onto his face, his eyes alight with laughter. He hadn't even seen any of it coming, he hadn't known that would be his last laugh, his last few seconds. He hadn't even realized his own death. But none of that mattered right then, nothing mattered except the fact that the second his body fell, the explosion still echoing through Percy's ears, he finally realized one vital thing. At first, honestly, Percy had genuinely thought, with the smile on Fred's face, that he was alive. He'd only caught a glimpse. Maybe his brother thought it was fun, an explosion sending them all flying through the air. And in that second, with the glimpse he had gotten, Percy had been pissed at his brother. Because they could have been seriously hurt, and Fred, of course, would think it was a game-_

_And then he saw Fred hit the ground and his brother didn't move an inch after that, he was still, his chest wasn't moving, and the same icy cold feeling gripped Percy just as tightly as before. Anger evaporated, turning into something much more awful, painful, something he couldn't even identify. A horrible scream ripped through the air, and it startled him for a good few seconds until he realized that he had made the sound, realized he was on his feet without even having stood up, realized he was beside his brother, but he hadn't moved…_

_Fred was cold to the touch, expression unchanging. He was dead. And he'd been dead the second the explosion rang out._

* * *

Percy bit down on his lip until he tasted blood, eyes stinging with tears as he pulled himself from the memory. George hadn't moved, but he had a knowing look on his face, leaning across the table with his hand over Percy's, gripping tightly. He took a deep breath, slightly shaky, as he finally lifted his gaze to his younger brother and forced a swift nod. "Yeah. Yeah," he finally choked out, his voice cracking a little more than he'd expected, but George didn't say a word. Just blinked, silent, as tears slowly began to brew in his eyes. "It was fast. He was-"

He broke off, choking on the words, as his throat constricted. He couldn't speak.

No matter how often Percy saw him as a ghost, or how many times he reminded himself that he could see Fred, talk to him, laugh with him again - he would never truly get over his death.

George's fingers squeezed tightly against his hand, holding strong, and Percy swallowed hard as he fought back another rush of tears. He was the older brother here, he was supposed to be the one comforting George. Especially since George had lost so much more than Percy had, and he didn't even know half of what Percy did. He was the one that needed the comfort right then, not Percy. He was the one who _deserved _it.

"I'm sorry…" He finally managed to choke out, blinking rapidly, as he forced himself to swallow again and shook his head a few times. "Merlin's beard, I'm sorry…"

George shook his head quickly, but he didn't say anything, seeming just as choked up as Percy.

They were silent for a long time. Percy felt like he was spiraling, drowning, suffocating all at once. He couldn't breathe, he could hardly think, and the worst part was that he could still hear the sound of the explosion, still echoing clearly through his head. These days, it hardly let up, but right now, at the moment, it was even louder than usual. He faltered and looked down, ducking his head, chin pressing against his chest as he screwed his eyes shut and tried to force the tears back. It was too quiet, but neither of them could think of anything else to say, or even how to say it, for that matter.

Suddenly, George gave his hand a small tug, causing Percy to blink his eyes open and look up instantly. His brother took in a breath and lifted his cup, finishing off the rest of his coffee, before pushing his chair back and standing up. "Come on." He let go of Percy's hand, gesturing his own for his brother to stand. "We're going out."

Percy blinked a few times, staring at him in genuine confusion. He did stand, though, however bewildered, but he didn't make a move for his coffee. He wasn't as thirsty as he thought, and it wasn't like he needed it to keep him awake right then. "George, it's…" He inhaled slowly, relieved that he wasn't as choked up as before, but his voice was still slightly strained, cracking faintly as he spoke. "It's five in the morning."

"That's the perfect time to go out, isn't it?"

Percy shook his head slightly, more puzzled than anything. Charlie must have worked wonders on this guy, because up until now George had been pretty damn content to stay inside all the time, from what he'd heard and seen. The sudden enthusiasm to go "out" - wherever "out" was - had him reeling, but all he could do was ask, "where can we even _go _at five in the morning?"

George paused at that, slowly lowering the empty cup back to the table. He narrowed his eyes a little, not quite meeting his brother's gaze, and fell silent for quite some time before finally just settling on a simple response, as well as a shrug. "... Out."

He offered a hand to Percy, and the older wizard just stared for a good few seconds, silent, unmoving, before finally just shaking his head and taking his hand in silence. If this is what George wanted to do, fine. Whatever it took to get him out of the house, right?

He held his breath as George apparated them away - he had never really gotten used to it, to be honest - and screwed his eyes shut. The second they arrived wherever they had gone, he could feel the wind blowing, colder than ever - and it hurt for a second, taking his breath away, before he finally sucked in a deep one and blinked both his eyes open again. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the sudden light - because even street lamps were brighter than the dimly lit kitchen he had been standing in moments before.

… Street lights?

He raised his eyebrows and turned his head to look around, blinking. Of all the places Percy had expected George to take him - Diagon Alley was _not _on that list.

"This works…" George trailed off for a second, watching with a small frown as a gust of wind blew a torn paper past the both of them. His eyes followed it in silence for a few seconds, eyebrows slowly furrowing together as he pulled his hand away from Percy's to wrap his arms around himself, rubbing both of his arms up and down with his thumbs as he shrugged and looked back toward his older brother. "I guess…?"

"Not quite what I was expecting," Percy admitted, a frown tugging at his lips. It wasn't that he didn't want to be there (though it wasn't that he _did _want to be there, either), but he was more or less worried about _George _being there, given what Ron had told him before, about how he'd reacted to the place. But he seemed willing enough now, nudging his shoulder against Percy's to get him to follow as he headed off down the abandoned street, and Percy took a deep breath, held it, then let it out in a heavy sigh and followed after him.

George muttered something under his breath, something about not bringing a jacket, but Percy just turned his head to glance through the windows of the shops they passed. He remembered going there, every year since he was eleven, always excited to be shopping. For books, mostly. But also other things, like potion ingredients, broomstick polish… Diagon Alley had been his favorite place - even above Hogwarts.

Now it was _dead_.

He shuddered a bit, less from the cold and more from the realization that one of the brightest, happiest places in the wizarding world had been crushed so effortlessly. It was easier watching _Hogwarts _fall, if he was being honest. Or maybe it was just easier because it wasn't about Hogwarts when it happened, and more about the people that fell with it. The only thing destroyed here were the shops, the streets… and the spirit.

The way that George tensed beside him, he could bet just about anything that his brother felt the same way. After all, he'd loved Diagon Alley just as much. But if he hated it here, then Percy had absolutely no idea how he was going to react when he saw the damaged state Hogwarts was in. But at least everybody had chipped in to help rebuild it, more or less - nobody seemed to want to come back to Diagon Alley, to see the way it had fallen.

_I can't blame them_, Percy thought, silent, as he watched a piece of one of the shop signs chip off, and the sign slid slowly, falling sideways. George huffed out a soft sigh beside him, finally bringing Percy's attention back to his younger brother, as he watched George wrap his arms even tighter around himself with a small scowl.

"Maybe this was a bad idea."

Percy let out a small chuckle, watching the smoke rise from his lips the second he opened his mouth. He fell silent, watching it dissipate for a moment, before turning his attention back to George with a small shrug. "D'you want to go back?"

"I don't kn…" George stopped walking, suddenly, staring ahead. Percy watched in silence as his expression shifted, turning wary at first. And then a look of complete, utter disbelief flickered across his face, along with immense confusion, and then the wariness returned as his eyes narrowed and his eyebrows rose, taking a few steps forward and squinting slightly. "Is that Ron?"

Percy blinked and followed his gaze.

"... Sure as hell looks like it."

Sure enough, it was. Their younger brother was leaning back against one of the streetlamps, spinning a bottle of something in his hand and looking up at the sky. His eyes were narrowed slightly against the wind as it blew, ruffling his hair back slightly, then sending it straight back into his face. Ron didn't react, aside from trying to blow his hair back out of his face himself before simply deciding it wasn't worth it and lifting the bottle back to his lips, taking a small sip.

George's entire demeanor changed in an instant. "Oh, he'd better not be…" He left Percy's side a little faster than he had expected, but the older wizard snapped back to his senses rather quickly to follow his brother, his eyes trained on Ron with a mixture of alarm and disbelief. "_Ron_!"

Ron nearly dropped the bottle, looking up, but he kept a firm grip on it as his eyes found his brothers. He blinked a few times, looking more stunned than anything at the moment, and raised the bottle a bit to block some of the light from his eyes as he watched them approach. "George?" He raised an eyebrow at Percy, seeming more or less surprised that he was there than anything, but his focus was mostly on George considering he was the one approaching him first, and he was the one with the more pissed-off expression on his face.

"What the hell are you doing?" George demanded, breathless, as he slowed slightly near his brother, but didn't completely stop. He reached to grab the bottle, but Ron jerked it back before he could get to it, taking a few steps back and continuing to shield his eyes from the light over their heads. "What is that?"

"Bloody hell, George," Ron mumbled, irritation flashing through his squinted eyes as he focused on his brother, a small scowl twisting at his lips now. "It's not that big of a-"

Percy reached out, plucking the bottle from his hands while he was distracted with George. Ron let out an indignant "hey!", but Percy paid him no mind, turning the bottle over quickly to scan the label. And he let out a small groan of disappointment when he saw what it was.

"Red wine." He showed it to George, who somehow managed to look even more pissed off than he had before, taking the bottle from Percy to read it himself as if he couldn't even believe what Percy had told him, at all. Percy just turned his gaze to Ron, more disappointed than anything, but the younger wizard just clasped a hand over his face and dragged it down slowly with a loud, irritated sigh. "Since when do you drink, Ron?"

"Especially such fancy stuff, too," George added, but his voice was strained with barely-restrained anger. Honestly, Percy was a little more surprised at _that _than anything, but Ron was his main focus right now.

"It's _red wine_," Ron snapped, his irritation growing as he glanced back and forth between them, throwing his hands up and letting them drop back to his sides with a huff. "It's not as if it's straight _alcohol_, for Merlin's sake- only a little bit. If I start drinking beer, then you can start worrying. Until then…" He held his hand out for the red wine, and George backed up so fast Percy honestly thought he was going to fall backwards.

"It's still _alcohol_," George protested, a mixture of emotions on his face now as he stared at his younger brother, and Percy crossed his arms with a frown as his brother continued, "do you know what this crap does to you, Ronald? Nothing _good_, that's for-"

"Oh, you would know, wouldn't you?" Ron groaned, turning away from them and rubbing a hand down his face again, shaking his head. "Don't be a hypocrite, George, I'm sure you've drank plenty in your life…"

"No," George responded stiffly, and Ron looked back up at him with faint surprise sparkling through his eyes now. "No, Ron, for your information, I have never had a _drop _of alcohol."

Ron didn't say anything after that, and Percy simply let his gaze flicker between them for a long time before he stepped forward, reaching a hand out for the bottle. George handed it over to him, a little more willingly than he had seemed with Ron, but still seeming slightly hesitant to hand it over nonetheless. "Alright, I think that's enough, anyway. Ron-"

"Percy, come on…" Ron sighed, shaking his head. "I'm not even _buzzed_, man."

"Oh, that's crap," George spat, seething again at once. But he turned his burning glare onto the bottle after a moment, mouth twisting slightly as his eyes narrowed. "You're buzzed from the second that disgusting liquid touches your tongue, Ronald."

"How would you know, if you've never drank?" Ron countered, crossing his arms over his chest with a frown. "Jeez, you act like it's this, horrible, god-forsaken drug-"

"It _is_," George insisted, and at this point Percy just stepped back again, tightening his grip.

"-but," Ron continued, emphasizing his words now with a scowl as he met his older brother's gaze, and as George stared back just as icily. "You have absolutely no idea what it really does, do you, George?"

Percy quirked an eyebrow at Ron, as George's gaze flickered back toward the bottle silently, the scowl on his face deepening, before he looked back down at Ron and narrowed his eyes even further. "No. No, I don't have the slightest clue what it does, and I don't care-"

"It's _numbing, _George," Ron interrupted, a half-exasperated tone edging his words as he leaned back against the streetlamp and dropped his gaze to the ground, narrowed eyes focusing intently on the sidewalk as he shrank back a little. "It's numbing, and it… _helps_. You have absolutely no idea-" He huffed out a small laugh, "-_no _idea how much it helps."

George was silent now, but his angry expression had faltered considerably, lowering his own gaze. Percy closed his own eyes for a long time, exhaling softly as silence finally fell between the three of them, giving them all some time to think. Mostly Percy, who had no idea what to do now. Technically, Ron could do what he wanted - he was seventeen, after all. But he still really didn't like the idea of him drinking - especially not now, when he'd basically just admitted that the only reason he _was _drinking was to… well, numb whatever pain he was feeling. Which made a lot of sense, to be honest, and Percy was kicking himself internally for not seeing it sooner.

Still, it was absolutely no way to deal with emotions. And even Percy knew that.

"Where did you _get _it, anyway?" George mumbled suddenly, and Percy opened his eyes again to look at his older brother - briefly wondering why it mattered where Ron had gotten it - before he glanced back at the boy in question, eyebrows raising slightly.

"There's this wonderful thing you know, George." Ron gestured to the building they were standing in front of, and Percy turned his head slightly to look, though he didn't completely turn away from his brothers just yet. "It's called a _bar_, and it's just _filled _with things like that." He pointed at the red wine, and Percy moved it up just a little bit out of instinct, unsure whether he was reaching for it or not at first.

"Don't get sassy with me," George huffed a little, shaking his head, though he didn't seem as angry anymore. He looked down at his younger brother, who just sank back again, silent, before lifting his gaze back to Percy. The older wizard just stared back at him in silence for a long time before just shaking his head and lowering the wine a little bit, reaching out to give it back to Ron.

"Thank you-"

"_No_," George growled, and Ron's fingers stopped just inches from the bottle. Percy paused a little bit, looking back toward his younger brother, before slowly pulling the bottle away again.

"What is your _deal_?" Ron demanded, turning back to George with an exasperated expression on his face now, not even seeming irritated anymore - just, _done_. "It's not like it can hurt me, you know? We've been _over this_. It's just a little bit of red wine, barely even a full bottle-"

"I am not going to let my little brother get addicted to alcohol," George interrupted, looking completely livid now. Percy took a few more steps back, quietly flicking his gaze back from Ron to George, and frowned a little bit at the expression on his face. He didn't think he'd ever seen George so angry about something, so completely, deadly serious. But right then, it was clear. He wasn't letting up. "That's that. Go home."

Now _Ron _looked livid, as well as confused, as if he couldn't believe that _George _of all people was standing here telling him what to do. "But I-"

"_Go. Home,_" George insisted, "before _I _go home and get _Mom_."

And that was it.

Ron recoiled, silent, and a look of resigned anger replaced the expression on his face for a good few seconds. He glanced at Percy, as if maybe expecting him to argue, or tell George to calm down, or offer him the red wine again. But he did none of that, simply stood and stared at George for a few seconds longer before he looked back at Ron, and he gave a small nod, as if to say _do as he says._

And with one last irritated look in George's direction, Ron apparated away.

It took about three and a half seconds for George to explode.

"I- _cannot- _believe-!" George drew himself back a little, taking a few steps backwards and stopping, his face twisting slightly as he let out a low snarl and buried his face into his hands. "I _cannot believe he's been drinking_!"

Percy paused and lowered the bottle to the ground, being careful not to knock it over as he headed back over to his younger brother. George wasn't exactly showing any signs of calming down anytime soon - in fact, it looked as though he was only getting started. "Doesn't he- you think he'd know what it _does _to people- what it can do- what it's _done-_"

"It's alright…" Percy reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, but George jerked away before he could, shaking his head again with a far more pissed off expression on his face.

"_No_, it is _not _alright." His head whirled around, looking toward the bar, then back down at the bottle. His eyes hardened, staring at it for a long moment before he spun around to face Percy again. "He is seventeen, Percy- seventeen years old, a- an alcohol addiction is the last thing-"

"Well, hopefully it won't get that far," Percy interrupted soothingly, a frown tugging at his lips as he reached out again, putting a hand on George's shoulder. His brother didn't jerk away again, but he seemed more or less irritated about being interrupted, about the fact that Percy wouldn't really _listen _to him. But he was listening - he _was _\- he just wanted George to calm down a little bit. The way he was going now, he seemed about ready to work himself up into a panic attack.

"I can't believe him…" George mumbled after a moment, his tense shoulder finally relaxing in Percy's grip, but his angry expression only intensified as he shook his head again. "I can't believe he would…"

Percy's frown deepened, but he didn't say anything after that. Part of him wanted to ask why George was so angry about this in the first place - even Percy was more worried about his brother than anything, more disappointed that he had resorted to drinking. But George seemed angry. Or, hell, not even that - he seemed _panicked_. The panicked kind of angry that gave Percy the impression that George was about ten seconds away from promptly locking Ron up in his room for the rest of his life and never letting him touch another bottle of alcohol.

"Come on," Percy finally spoke, shaking his head a little and giving George's shoulder a soft squeeze. "We'll deal with Ron in the morning. Let's go home."

"Oh, no." George's scowl deepened a little. "No. _Mom's _going to be dealing with Ron in the morning." At that, Percy raised his eyebrows, both impressed and even more confused than before. George was the last person to go to their mother over anything involving their siblings - in fact, to be honest, George and Fred were the secret-keepers, the ones they could trust with the big stuff. So for George to be willing to go to Molly about all of this, he _must _be pissed.

Regardless, all he did was nod his agreement. "And you can tell _her _in the morning," he emphasized, studying his brother's expression carefully. It took a while, as George struggled to calm himself down, and eventually all he managed was a stiff nod in response to Percy, seemingly unable to say anything more on the subject.

And Percy noticed his eyes lingered on the bottle of red wine for just a few seconds longer before he turned away, grabbed the wrist of the hand Percy had put on his shoulder, and apparated them both away himself.


	9. Chapter 9

"Ron _what?!_"

Percy thought _George _had been pissed? His reaction was calm as _fuck _compared to the one Fred was giving right now.

So maybe the angry expression and the stern behavior was less surprising when it came to George, considering how he'd been acting lately anyway, considering everything he was going through. But up until now, Fred had been fine. He'd been happy. He'd been smiling, he'd been laughing, cracking jokes like all hell and pretty much being as normal as ever. In fact, up until this very moment, he'd had the brightest of smiles on his face and had been ready to tell them how he'd scared Snape shitless into nearly dying _again_.

But the mention of alcohol had him doing a complete 180.

In an instant, he had whirled around to face Ron, storming forward without warning. Ron stumbled back a little, surprised, but it was too late - Fred had already found a strong grip on the front of his shirt and, yanking Ron forward, face to face with him, he curled his lips back into a _snarl_ and fixed his gaze right on his brother's. "Ronald Weasley, _how long_ have you been drinking?" He seethed, ignoring both Percy and Bill's hands on his shoulders as they fought to pry him away from his younger brother, who looked about ready to piss his pants right then and there.

"I- Uh-" Ron couldn't even seem to spit the words out. A harsh tug to the shoulder just barely managed to loosen Fred's grip, but it was enough to snap him back to his senses just enough for him to lower his brother back to the ground, loosening his grip slightly but never quite letting go of his younger brother, and never, _ever _taking his gaze off of Ron's.

"How long?" He demanded again, no less force behind the words than before, and he didn't seem to be at all less intimidating than he had been just inches away from his brother, either.

"I don't know," Ron breathed, clearly trying to bring up at least a spark of defiance, but his eyes were wide as he stared at his brother, clearly much more shaken at seeing Fred like this than he had been even by seeing George so livid. "I don't…" He leaned back when his older brother took a few more steps forward, almost warningly, and raised his hands at once. "Two weeks!"

Silence filled the room for a good few seconds. Fred's scowl didn't let up, but his grip finally loosened enough to allow Ron to pull away. The younger wizard brushed himself off, taking a few steps away from Fred and looking at him as if he'd gone completely mental. "Think being a ghost's made you a bit, uh, angry and _violent_, mate…" He muttered, but he fell silent under Fred's cold glare. He was in no mood for jokes, not right then.

"What were you drinking?" He asked after a moment, no calmer than before. Ron opened his mouth, seemed to think better of it, and shut it again. "_Ron_."

"Nothing _strong_…" Ron started, a slightly irritated look finally crossing his face. Fred glared at him for a moment before turning to face Percy, shrugging his hand off of his shoulder in the process, and crossing his arms over his chest as he focused his cold stare on his older brother. Percy took a few steps back at once, but his gaze never faltered from Fred's.

"Red wine, Fred."

Fred blinked. Once.

And then the fury returned tenfold.

"_Nothing strong_?!" He bellowed, spinning back around to face Ron, and the younger boy practically flinched back in surprise. "_Nothing strong_? Do you have any _idea_\- how _strong_\- _wine is_?" He took a deep breath, held it, and promptly clasped one hand over his mouth, his fingernails digging thickly into his skin as he screwed his eyes shut and tried to force himself to calm down. "Can't believe you…"

"Okay, _seriously_," Ron mumbled, though he sounded less angry and more defensive than anything, and also just a tiny bit scared. And for good reason, because the second he started talking, Fred opened his eyes and fixed him with a glare even colder than before. If looks could kill, Ron would be a ghost, himself, right then and there. "I just, I don't see what the big deal is? I'm seventeen-"

"I-" Fred dropped his hand, stared at him, then suddenly hissed out a soft, dry laugh. "_I'm seventeen_, he says-" His teeth gritted together slowly, clenching so tight he genuinely thought they might just shatter under the sheer pressure - not that it would have made him let up on it, anyway, he didn't quite care right then. No, his focus was on something much more important - getting his _dimwitted brother _to understand exactly how _serious _this was. "So just because you're seventeen, you can just go off and do whatever you want, whenever you want, consequences be damned?"

Ron opened and closed his mouth, honestly looking like he wanted to respond with "yes", but he seemed far too intimidated by Fred at the moment to even consider cracking a joke right then. Fred took a deep breath, again, and fell silent for a good few seconds, genuinely struggling not to go off and start yelling at his brother again. Honestly, everything had been just fine up until that moment. Not that he wasn't glad Percy had said something - because trust me, Fred was very grateful for that, because he was about to scare this boy so bad he wouldn't be able to _look _at another bottle of alcohol.

The thought calmed him slightly - scaring his brother shitless was his specialty, after all, he'd definitely have some fun with that one. But he had to take a moment to remind himself that this wasn't a joke, or a game. He had to be serious. Ron had to take him seriously.

"Ronald," Fred finally muttered, his voice much quieter than before. But that seemed to scare Ron even more than the yelling, because he flinched slightly and took a few steps back, clearly expecting an even greater lecture than Fred was probably about to give. Fred didn't really blame him, actually, thinking of the talking-to Molly must have given him before they'd come this morning. That along with the headache Ron must have right now. But that served him _right_.

Shaking his head at himself, he continued, "do you have any idea what _alcohol _does to you?"

Ron grimaced slightly, seemingly already having heard all of this from Molly, because he just gave a slightly exasperated nod. "Yeah, yeah… fucks up your liver, heart, etc…" He droned, shaking his head a little. "Already got it from Mum, thanks, Fr-"

"Right, yeah, whatever, how wonderful for you." Fred's voice sharpened, and Ron stopped at once, his gaze flickering up to his brother as he snapped his mouth shut and fell completely silent. Fred took a deep breath and turned back to face him completely again, arms crossed over his chest, taking a few steps forward toward his younger brother and narrowing his eyes down at Ron. "Well if you've already got it all from Mom, did she tell you what it does to the _mind_?"

Ah, there we go. A flicker of uncertainty flashed across Ron's face, and he shuffled slightly where he stood, his own arms crossed, opening his mouth as if to respond but not seeming able to find the words to respond with. Fred narrowed his eyes a little, biting his tongue to keep back a scoff. "I thought so."

"Okay, and?" Ron muttered eventually, and Fred quirked an eyebrow at him questioningly, shifting faintly to lean back and rolling his shoulders back with a small frown on his face now. Ron just seemed relieved that he wasn't scowling so deeply. "What does it do, then? To the mind?" He gestured to his own head, almost mockingly. _Well, good, keep that oh-so confident expression on your face for a moment longer, Ron, _he thought bitterly, _but you're not going to look so self-assured in a moment._

"I'm so glad you asked." Fred took a deep breath and moved forward a little bit, walking over to his brother. He moved past him, however, circling around until he came to a complete stop on Ron's other side, facing the others now. "Once upon a time…"

* * *

"_White wine?"_

_Fred looked up for a second, his gaze flickering from the bottle he was holding to the one in George's hand as his brother read the label, eyes narrowed slightly in an almost skeptical look and a deep frown on his face. After a moment, the seventeen year old reached over to put the bottle he was holding back on the shelf to walk over to George instead, peering over his shoulder at the wine bottle with a hum. "Looks good."_

"_Yeah…" George trailed off and narrowed his eyes a little bit, turning the bottle over in his hands. After a few seconds, though, he simply huffed out a small laugh and shrugged, turning around to face his brother and pressing the bottle against his chest with a frown. "This is stupid, Freddie. Really, what's the point?" He raised an eyebrow at his brother. _

"_The point…" Fred wrapped his fingers around the neck of the bottle, easing it out of his brother's grip, "is that we're of age now, my dear brother. And that means we can-"_

"_-do whatever we want," George finished for him, shaking his head. Fred grinned, as if to say "exactly", but George wasn't exactly losing his frown just yet. He dropped his gaze back to the bottle in Fred's hands, biting his lip, and shook his head once more. "I just… Okay, what if Mom catches us? Seventeen or not, you know she'll have a fit…"_

_Fred raised an eyebrow, pausing, and cocked his head to the side, giving his brother an amused but slightly bewildered grin. "As if that's ever stopped us before…?" He pointed out, and that seemed to be George's last argument, because his shoulders sank and his eyes slid shut for a good few seconds, letting out a soft, resigned sigh. Then, taking a deep breath that didn't come back out for a moment or so, he shrugged and looked away, opening his eyes to focus on the shelves instead of his twin. _

"_Yeah, okay."_

_What an open book his brother was…_

"_Georgie…" Fred's voice softened, and he shifted the bottle to one hand so that he could put the other one on George's shoulder, squeezing softly. George's gaze reluctantly flickered back up to his, a worried look written across his face, and Fred just offered him a grin. "Have I ever steered you wrong, bro?"_

"_I don't know…" George mumbled, but a smile was lingering on his face now, just a faint one. "Does the time you tried to turn me into a toilet count?"_

_Fred raised his eyebrows, gave a small hum of consideration, then shrugged with the grin still on his face. "Well… "tried to" being the key word there, huh?" He squeezed his brother's shoulder again before pulling away, waving the bottle in front of George with a hum. "But seriously, bro, it's okay. We just won't drink too much. I mean- that's a given, right? Don't wanna overload on the first go." He laughed a bit, and George managed a tiny smile in response, though he still seemed uncertain as he eyed the bottle. "How about this- I'll try it first."_

"_Oh hell no," George replied immediately, fixing his brother with an amused, but serious look all the same, and nudging his shoulder lightly against Fred's with a huff. "We're doing this …"_

"_The way we do everything else," Fred continued, a warm smile appearing on his face. George grinned, looping his arm with his brother's, and grabbed the lower half of the bottle while Fred continued to hold onto the neck of it, holding it steady._

"_Together!"_

* * *

"Okay…" Ron was leaning back against the wall now, arms still crossed like it was some kind of defensive mechanism, some shield, as if it could protect him from the tale that Fred was spinning. Percy was now on his other side, looking intrigued and a little concerned, because he seemed to already know where the story was heading. Bill was on the floor - literally on the floor, stretched out on his stomach, head buried into his arms. His father had wandered off, as had Ginny - but their mother was there, arms crossed just like Ron's, but in pure disapproval as she fixed Fred with a glare quite similar to the one he'd been giving Ron the past half hour.

"Okay," Ron said again, frowning, as he narrowed his eyes at Fred. "So? That doesn't sound so horrible. So you've drank- and George probably has too, I bet," he huffed a bit. "Lied right through his teeth last night, then-"

"No, Ron," Fred interrupted quietly, "George didn't have a single _drop _of alcohol."

Ron sank back a bit, his arms seeming to tighten around himself as he scowled and dropped his gaze to the floor. "I swear, sometimes the similarities between you two are just downright _creepy_."

Fred rolled his eyes, and continued.

* * *

"_... I don't know."_

_George had stopped, with the glass just inches to his lips. They were seated at a table in one of the bars in Diagon Alley, the bottle of wine on the table in front of them, and each of them holding a glass filled to the rim. George stared at his as if it were about to come to life, swallow him up and drown him; Fred downed his without any hesitation, only to drop the glass and break down coughing immediately. It wasn't that strong, it was only a bit of white wine - but for someone who had never had alcohol in his life, it was strong enough._

"_Oh- bloody hell- that is-"_

_George peered at him over his own glass, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, and offered a helpful, "disgusting?" as he watched his brother._

"_Strong," Fred finally conceded, when he could actually breathe again, covering his mouth with one hand and shaking his head side to side. He cleared his throat and dropped his hand to his chest, leaning back in his chair and staring at the glass, and the bottle, as if it had offended him somehow. "Wow…"_

"_See, I told you this was a bad idea," George grumbled, putting the glass down and scooting it away a little bit with his fingers, his frown deepening. "But noooo, nobody listens to the smart twin, nobody listens to logic…" He muttered almost mockingly, and Fred quirked an eyebrow at him, almost amused, at least until one part of that sentence caught his attention. Then he had a smirk that mirrored George's, leaning forward a little and squinting at his twin._

"_I'm sorry, the 'smart twin'?"_

_George raised his eyebrows at him, as if daring him to disagree._

_Fred narrowed his eyes, thinking, then eventually just shrugged and sat back again. Reaching forward, he silently curled his fingers around the rim of George's glass, lifting it only a few inches above the table. George watched, but he didn't say a word, as Fred finally pulled the glass toward him after a few seconds and pressed the rim to his lips, tilting his head back and downing the shot, again, without any hesitation at all._

_If George's frown could get any deeper, it just had. _

"_You'd think after that reaction you wouldn't want any more," he said almost nervously, crossing his arms over the table as his brother set the glass down, clearing his throat a few times. Luckily, no awful coughing fit followed, but Fred did look pretty damn uncomfortable as he rubbed his throat and shook his head a bit. "Come on, let's just call it quits and go home, why don't we? None of this matters, right? We came, we saw, we conquered…"_

"_We?" Fred questioned, a playful smile lingering on his face now as he eyed his brother. "You haven't touched a single drop, Georgie."_

"_Yes, well, you've done that for me," George replied, almost desperately now as he watched his brother, searching his face carefully. Fred softened considerably, letting out a low sigh as he glanced back at the bottle, and then back to his twin. "Please, now, it's late… can we go?" He tilted his head at his brother, and Fred knew what was coming even before the puppy dog eyes had activated. There was no point in fighting George when he got that look on his face, and Fred knew much better than that in any case._

_He sighed, George's expression relaxing immediately before Fred had even gotten the words out. "Okay, alright, fine. Let's go." He reached over the table, ruffling George's hair, and his twin let out an indignant yelp and ducked away quickly with a slightly startled laugh. "But I can't promise I'm gonna stay away from this place, Georgie, I think this stuff's growing on me."_

_George blinked, his smile vanishing instantly into a worried frown as he stood up, grabbing his jacket off of the back of his chair. "Well, that's not good…" He started, frown deepening. "This stuff is addictive, you know, Freddie. You ought to be careful."_

"_Oh, relax." Fred brushed him off with a grin as he stood up, himself, stretching slightly and grabbing his own jacket to shrug into. "I'm not going to get addicted, you know that. I'm just a tad curious, is all, you know me." He beamed at George, who didn't exactly seem too convinced, but his twin just gave a simple shake of his head. "Anyways, why don't you go pay the nice wizard at the counter and I'll get this mess cleaned up."_

"_Alright." George stepped around the table, glancing at the wine bottle. "What're you going to do with that, then? Should I take it back?"_

_Fred paused slightly, focusing on the bottle for a moment, before flashing his brother a charming smile. "Nah, leave it. I'll see if one of these fine blokes want to pay a good few galleons for it themselves. Make some easy, fast money, you know? Perhaps I should consider working as a bartender, I heard it pays quite well."_

_George raised an eyebrow, amused, and lightly nudged his shoulder against Fred's as he brushed past him. "Whatever you say, Freddie." Fred just chuckled, turning his head faintly to watch him go, and stayed silent and still until he was gone. Then, pausing, he slowly pulled his jacket on, adjusting his sleeves, and gathered the cups off of the table, stacking them neatly on a tray a wizard was carrying as he walked past him. _

_His gaze focused on the bottle again as he adjusted his sleeves once more, rolling his cuffs up and reaching up to adjust the collar of the jacket, a frown lingering on his face for a second._

_And, after a moment of consideration, he picked the bottle up, put the cap back on it, and stuffed it into his pocket. Just in time as George appeared, seeming rather irritated now as he cast glances over his shoulder, nose wrinkled and mouth twisted into a scowl. "Can you believe some of the wizards here? Rude people, I'll tell you. No wonder, they spend their time in places like these all day… S'pose I'd be angry too," he huffed a little, but his frown lifted into a smile as he stopped beside his brother. "Ready, Fred?"_

_Fred grinned, throwing an arm around his brother, and nodded. "Ready, George."_

* * *

"So I can see how this is starting to become a problem," Ron sighed, reluctantly. He was sitting down now, knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, his cheek pressed to one of his knees and his eyes focused on Fred as he frowned up at his older brother. "But I still don't understand what this has to do with me. So you were a little bit more curious than I am, a little bit more reckless, it's not like I-"

"That has nothing to do with it, Ron," Fred insisted, crossing his own arms now as he leaned back against the wall. "George was right, you see, the damn stuff is rather addicting. And once you latch onto it…" He trailed off, eyes narrowing slowly. "It's rather hard to let it go."

* * *

_That night, Fred was stretched out across his bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, eyes narrowed. George was in his own bed, silent as ever, but awake, Fred could tell just as easily. Usually, Fred would be glad that he was awake, happy with the conversations they always had late at night. Now, though, he was just counting down the minutes, waiting for him to fall asleep. All he could think about was the white wine, still slightly burning, tingling against his tongue - he could feel it, he could taste it. He had only had two glasses, it wasn't as if he was addicted, right? No, he was just… curious. Extremely curious. As he was about a lot of things._

"_Hey, Fred?" George suddenly mumbled, sounding half-asleep already. Fred jumped a little at the sound of his voice, a rush of guilt flooding him for a second, and he struggled to force it down. He hated lying to his brother - though he wasn't quite lying, George hadn't exactly outright asked if he had brought the bottle home with them, had he? So Fred hadn't exactly had to lie to him, right? He forced the guilt down, assuring himself, as he responded to his brother._

"_Yeah, George?"_

"_You really going back there?" George's voice was quieter, though Fred wasn't sure it was from exhaustion or not. His gaze flickered, turning in his brother's direction through the darkness, and he paused slightly for a moment before looking away again, rooting his eyes to the ceiling with a small frown on his face now. He didn't want to give George the chance to talk him out of going but, at the same time, he didn't want to outright lie to him either. He struggled with his answer for a moment, but in the silence, George seemed to already know what he was going to say. Fred wasn't exactly surprised; His twin knew him about as well as Fred knew George._

"_It's okay," he murmured, "you're curious, I get it. Just… Promise me something?" _

"_Anything, Georgie," Fred responded warmly, and he could feel his brother's smile through the darkness. He could feel it, because he felt the familiar warmth that rushed through him whenever he saw it, whenever his brother was happy; When he was happy, so was Fred. It had always been like that, and Fred didn't think it would ever change. _

"_Don't get addicted…"_

"_I won't." Fred agreed without hesitation, turning his head slightly in George's direction. "I promise you, George, I will not get addicted."_

* * *

"Famous last words, right?" Bill muttered into his arms, his voice muffled. Both Ron and Fred spared him irritated looks, while Percy actually huffed out a soft snicker, which honestly didn't really faze Fred anymore. He shook his head, ignoring his brothers, and continued.

* * *

"_Okay." Silence passed for a few seconds. George shifted rather suddenly, and Fred paused for a second to look back in his direction, hearing the bed move as his brother rolled over. After a moment or so, about a minute and a half, George suddenly spoke again. "And another thing?"_

"_Mhm?"_

"_Don't drink too much of that tonight."_

_There was a split second of freezing ice in his gut before it was replaced with the familiar warmth, and a burst of laughter left him just as his brother started giggling, himself. They both laid there for a moment, enjoying the moment, Fred more so enjoying the warmth and the sound of his brother's laughter than anything, before they lapsed back into the soft, comfortable silence. Fred relaxed into the bed, much more at ease now that his brother knew - or, apparently, had known all along - but Fred was just glad he didn't have to really sneak around with it anymore, at least. _

"_I won't," he promised quietly after a moment. "Just a few sips, that's all. I want to try and build up a tolerance to it before I go back, you know?"_

"_We," George corrected sleepily, "before we go back, Fred."_

_Fred smiled, feeling the familiar warmth as he did, and he nodded slightly despite the fact that his brother couldn't exactly see him through the darkness at the moment. He sank back into the bed again, sighing, and turned his head slightly to face the wall instead, shifting over a little and stuffing his arms under his pillow, where he had put the bottle of white wine once they'd returned home, just before dinner. "Goodnight Georgie," he said softly._

_A soft chuckle, a small hum, and the same rush of warmth as his brother replied with the usual, "goodnight, Freddie."_

* * *

"Can't believe you…" His mother was grumbling now as she leaned back against the wall, eyeing Fred with a scowl on her face. "Drinking, in my house…" Her eyes darted toward Ron suddenly, and her eyes narrowed even further as she opened her mouth to say something. Ron held up his hands before she could, though, eyes widening.

"No, no! I only drink in Diagon Alley! Not at home! That's _it_!"

"It's bad enough," Fred countered, honestly a little irritated by all of the interruptions now. "Can I _continue_, please, both of you?"

His mother sighed a little, continuing to glare at Ron for a good few seconds before nodding at Fred. "Yes, of course, sorry, George…" She started, paused, and simply buried her face into her hands. Fred grinned, ready to respond, but his mother spared him a glare through her fingers.

"Right." Fred cleared his throat and let out a low hum. "Anyway, so, a few weeks later, I was still going strong with the alcohol. George continued trying to discourage me from it, of course, but it never did any good. After all, you couldn't stop me when I was curious. Everybody knows that much. I do wish, however, that I had listened to George." His face darkened. "Because a few weeks later, when I was drinking, there was a little bit of trouble. See, after a while, it stops being enough." His mouth twisted. "The rush it gives, it stops being enough after a certain point. So you're left like that, aching for another fix, but unsatisfied with the same old thing. I could have gone out and continued on with different types of alcohol, but I was bored with that already. All of the alcohol in Diagon Alley was weak, anyway…

"So I found myself at a muggle bar," Fred finally finished, crossing his arms behind his head. "I figured they'd be much more open to stronger things. I didn't bring George this time, I didn't think he'd want to come along, he was never too interested in muggles and I knew exactly how he felt about my drinking habits, anyway. So it was just me, some alcohol, and some bloodthirsty muggles…"

* * *

"_Well, this is one of the more interesting places I've been to…" Fred headed along with a smile on his face, eyes drifting around carefully and slowly as he turned every which way, walking backwards a few times to focus on one of the neon signs hanging over the doors. He got a few weird looks from people as he passed, but most of them ended up just turning away from him with a few shakes of their heads, more irritated than anything. Fred didn't really understand why. But if George thought the wizards and witches in the Diagon Alley bars were rude, he didn't want to meet the muggles that were partying here, that's for sure… _

_He paused at the counter and waited for one of the bartenders to reach him, eyeing the bottles on the shelf. Maybe he'd try mixing a little bit, or asking what kinds of alcohol they had. Maybe they had other things, different than the drinks the wizarding world served. After all, muggles came up with far greater things than magic sometimes. Fred would most certainly know, he still couldn't get over hair dye, to be honest. One of their greatest inventions, he'd say. And one of their best pranking tools yet. He grinned to himself, leaning his chin on his hand, and looked up as the bartender finally got to him, only to pause when she reached him._

_Regarding him with an almost disbelieving expression, the bartender leaned slightly against the counter and eyed him up and down, chewing on a stick of bubblegum. She blew a bubble, let it pop, then sucked the gum right back between her teeth to continue chewing as she rubbed a glass with a rag she was holding. "ID?" She asked simply, holding his gaze with narrowed eyes. That gave Fred pause for a good few seconds, though, a little nervous. He didn't exactly have an ID, after all - what was he supposed to tell this girl, that he was from the wizarding world, where the legal drinking age was seventeen? Yeah, that would be interesting… _

_He flashed her his best charming smile and shifted slightly, leaning sideways against the counter and tilting his head toward her, letting his gaze slowly flicker up over her head to scan the bottles on the shelf. He felt his mouth watering instinctively, the same odd pull he got whenever he thought of alcohol, or looked at alcohol, or smelled alcohol. And right then he was doing all three. And he was thirsty as hell, a lot more than he'd thought. In fact, the last time he'd drank had been a few good days ago, too. He was pretty much suffering withdrawals. _

_He could already hear George's voice in his head, a loud, obnoxious "I told you so…" if George was to find out that, yes, maybe Fred had gotten a little bit addicted to the stuff. But really, could you blame him? It was pretty good. And not just good tasting (because believe me some of it wasn't), but it made him feel good. Like he was flying, without needing a broomstick. It took away almost everything else except the happiness, the relaxation. He felt calm, at-ease. But right then, with no alcohol in his system, he just felt… well, needy. "Um…" He trailed off, running his tongue over his lips and bringing his gaze back to the girl. "Well, I- I don't exactly have, uh…"_

_The bartender gave an amused smile, a knowing look, and pointed toward the door. Fred faltered a little, frowning. What was the big deal? He'd been drinking for a while, it wasn't like he wasn't allowed to. But, the muggles didn't know that. He had only come out to have a good time, get a little drunk on whatever good shit these guys had - but now… Fred leaned his head back, turning slightly to look toward the door, then shoved himself away from the counter without a word and turned to head off. Fine, it wasn't a big deal. He'd just go back to Diagon Alley, have some wine there, and figure out how the hell he was supposed to get an ID._

_An arm wrapped around his shoulder from behind as he walked, taking him by surprise, and he looked up with wide eyes as he was turned completely around and pulled to a stop. And who else does he see but his good friend Lee, who had a huge, shit-eating grin written across his face as he sank his entire weight against Fred, sending them both stumbling and falling into one of the tables. Fred barely managed to keep himself upright, pressing one hand to the table and grabbing Lee's shoulder with the other one, pleasantly surprised despite the fact that Lee had just nearly cost them both their lives. "Jordan! What are you doing here, mate?"_

"_Same 's you, havin' a good time," Lee slurred with a grin, putting a hand on top of Fred's head as he pulled them both upright, using the arm of some burly-looking biker dude to pull himself steady. "'Cept, uh, well, you was leavin', and I'm not leavin'..." He squinted at Fred for a moment, his expression twisting slightly as his eyes seemed to glaze over. Then, grinning again, he clasped his hand over the back of Fred's neck and steered him back in the direction of the counter. "C'mon, man, have a drink, y'know, relax, chill…"_

"_Yeah, I would, only problem is I don't think I'm allowed in here. Really hot chick upthere asked me for an ID, and then when I said I didn't have one she kinda basicallyjust told me to leave." Fred paused a bit, frowning, and narrowed his eyes a little as he studied Lee's face intently. "Are you alright? You don't look so spiffy, man."_

"_Ah, s'rubbish," Lee muttered, almost to himself, completely ignoring his question. "Y'don' need an ID, man. Jus' tell 'em you're with, uh…" He waved a hand toward one of the guys playing pool in the corner, a large man with tattoos covering his entire body. He definitely looked like someone Fred wouldn't want to mess with in the wizarding world, but as a muggle, he looked pretty damn harmless in all honesty. "I 'unno, Ripper 'r whatever 'is name is."_

_Fred paused, but he didn't have any time to respond. Pushing him against the counter - and rather forcefully, at that - Lee pushed forward a little bit and leaned over the counter with a grin, whistling for one of the male bartenders. "'Ey, gorgeous, can ya get me a, uh…" He squinted toward the shelves. "I 'unno, somethin' strong for my friend here and… I'll take somethin' fruity, I guess?" He shrugged a little as the bartender nodded and headed off, then grinned and spun on his heel to face Fred, who at the moment was rubbing his side with a frown. "Dude, the muggles, they have, some awesome mixes here. I could not believe alcohol can be so strong…"_

"_Interest piqued," Fred admitted, shrugging the pain off and grinning at his friend, eyebrows raising slightly. "How good is it, dude?"_

"_Real good," Lee insisted, eyes sparkling with an emotion Fred couldn't quite place, an expression he couldn't quite read. He brushed it off after a moment. "And just wait, you can mix it with some o' whatever m'gettin', which shoul' be good, y'know, 'cause like, mixing is the shit here. I put some wine in with this weird watermelon flavored tequila, and it was legit. I vomited for like, three hours straight," he added proudly. "And I got into a bar fight with this dude… He's not here right now, luckily 'cause he whooped my ass but… y'should see him, he's bigger'n Shredder man…" He paused, then snapped his fingers. "Shredder, that's his name!"_

_Fred watched him with a mixture of concern and amusement, but mostly amusement, to be honest. After all, Lee was having fun - why should Fred be worried? "You are so trashed, mate."_

"'_Course I am!" Lee laughed, swaying slightly as he pressed himself forward against the counter and looked up at Fred through wide, glazed-over eyes filled with glee. "I had liiiike, ffffiffteen shots o' some hardcore whiskey- an'- an' lemme tell ya, the damn stuff 's pretty damn hardcore 'f you ask me, bu' I'm not complainin', y'get me?"_

"_Hardcore whiskey…" Fred echoed thoughtfully, narrowing his eyes. Then, with a grin, he turned back to Lee and folded his hands over the counter. "Think I can get some of that?"_

* * *

"Hardcore whiskey?" Ron narrowed his eyes, looking thoughtful, himself, for a good few seconds - at least until Percy smacked him over the back of the head, hard. Luckily before Fred could do so himself, and, believe me, he was damn close to doing so. Ron winced and sank down a little, clasping a hand over the back of his head, and he glared at Percy so intently that Fred was honestly convinced his older brother might burst into flames.

"This isn't a game, Ronald," Fred spoke with a scowl, bringing Ron's gaze back to his. He shrank back even further, seeing the glare on his older brother's face, and snapped his mouth shut tightly as Fred spoke. "I thought it was at first, too, okay? I thought it was fun, and _cool_, and there was nothing else that could give me such a rush." His eyes darkened. "Well, it was. It was like that, and it was great, until George showed up."

* * *

_Lee wasn't lying about that hardcore whiskey. It was definitely hardcore._

_Two sips had Fred spinning in a way he never had before. He wasn't even sure how it felt, to be honest - he wasn't sure if he liked it or not. But it was… different. A lot more hazy than he had expected, as well, which was only just a little bit frightening if Fred was being honest… but for the most part, he felt fine. He stumbled through the bar with one arm wrapped around Lee - the other wrapped around some big muggle guy that was apparently Lee's friend. He couldn't remember his name, but it didn't matter much to Fred. He just wanted some more drinks._

"_C'monnnn le'ss go another round," Lee was encouraging, looking up at the big guy, who shook his head in complete silence and continued pushing him along. "S'soooo fun man… h've you ever heard of hardcore whiskey? S'so good. Tell 'im, would you Freddie? Tell 'im how good it is."_

"_S'..." Fred paused, blinking, at a loud, sudden crash. He turned, wrenching his arm away from the guy, wide-eyed and straining to see what was going on. He wasn't expecting to see George standing there, in the middle of a bunch of drunk guys, shattered glass all around him and wincing away from the stares as people slowly knelt down to salvage what they could of their drinks, never taking their eyes off of him._

"_I'm sorry- I'm sorry, I'm just looking for my-"_

"_Brrrrrrrrooooooooootherrrrrrr!" Fred cheered, stumbling away from Lee and the other guy to head straight to George. His twin looked up, an expression of pure relief flashing across his face. At least until Fred nearly crashed sideways into a table, knocking a few chairs over in the process, trying to get to him. And George was at his side in an instant - judging by the shocked gasps and murmurs from around them, Fred could figure he had apparated, no less. _

"_Freddie…" George wrapped an arm around him, and Fred immediately shifted to lean his weight on his brother instead of the table. George stumbled only slightly before rooting himself to the ground again, turning Fred slightly to face him and studying his face with wide, worried eyes. "Oh, no, Freddie, what did you… how much did you drink?"_

"'_S'a lot," Fred mumbled, squinting at him curiously. "S'no big deal…"_

_George stared at him in disbelief for a few seconds before looking up. Lee was stumbling up to them, balanced on the big muggle guy's arm, and George pulled Fred just a little bit closer to him now. "Lee?"_

"'_Eyyyyy, buddy," Lee slurred with a drunken smile. Fred leaned his head back on George's shoulder, grinning, but it faltered a little when he saw that his twin was frowning - and deeply, at that. After a second, Fred twisted and pulled away, grabbing for George's wrists in the process and tugging slightly as he tried to pull him over to the bar._

"_Georgie! Y'wanna drink? Y'can get s'me of the fruit stuff th-"_

"_No!" George twisted his hands, grabbing Fred's wrists, and slowly pulled his brother back toward him. His anxiety was through the roof right then, and it was clearer than anything that he wanted to get himself and his twin the hell out of there as soon as possible. "No, Freddie, I don't want to drink - and I think you've had enough, too," he stressed, shaking his head, and glanced over at Lee for a second as he spoke, "both of you, come on. We're leaving. Now."_

_Silence fell over the bar for a while after that. Fred locked his gaze with George's, too surprised to really speak right then. _

_Finally, Lee pulled away from the other guy and walked forward. Instead of reaching for George, however, he clasped a hand over Fred's shoulder, and with surprising strength, he pulled him away from the other twin. Fred stumbled a bit, reaching up to grab Lee's wrist, and blinked at George as his twin brother's face faltered, determination falling to confusion._

"_Freddie?"_

_Fred paused, keeping his gaze fixed on George for a moment. On one hand, this was his twin. And on the other… He faltered a little. He was having fun here, and it wasn't like it was anything dangerous. Nobody was hurt, everyone was happy, and it had all been fine until George had stepped in. The wizard ran his tongue over his lips before taking a few steps back, and realization crossed George's face._

"_I don' wanna go home, Georgie," Fred slurred, shaking his head a little bit with a frown. "M'fine, I promise, I jus' wanna stay n'..."_

"_No. No way." George shook his head and stepped forward. Fred stumbled back, shoulders tense. But what neither brother was expecting was for Lee to step forward, yanking something from his pocket, and in the next second there was a wand pressed under George's chin, halting him completely in his place. Confused murmurs rippled through the watching crowd, as a few people even shuffled back, clearly more bewildered than anything now but still intrigued all the same. Fred's eyes widened, instinctively protective at seeing his brother being threatened, and reached out slightly to grab the wrist of the hand that Lee was holding the wand with._

"_Whoa, c'mon…"_

"_H's' try'na make you go home, Freddie," Lee protested, not taking his eyes off of George, who didn't seem to know whether to be scared or angry at that moment. "You don' wanna go home, do you?"_

"_No, o' course not, but you don' gotta…" Fred trailed off, a little helplessly, and locked his gaze with George's. He wondered if he'd ever get to the point where threatening his brother with a wand was the only option for him, he wondered if he'd ever get to the same point of violence that Lee seemed to be at, the same desperation. He wondered if he was already there. He couldn't imagine himself ever holding a wand to his brother's face, but that was now. What about later? What if the addiction got worse? _

_What if __**he **__got worse?_

_After a few seconds, George pulled back, taking a few steps away, and gave a simple nod. "Freddie," he spoke quietly, his tone betraying no anger, or anything of the sort, just a deep sense of disappointment as well as intense determination. "I'm telling Mom."_

_And with that, he was gone. Right then and there. _

"_There we go," Lee said cheerfully, and then, twirling his wand, he turned and pointed it at one of the crowds with a simple, "obliviate!" and Fred just stared at the place where George had stood moments before, suddenly feeling far too sick to drink anything else right then._

_Later that night-_

* * *

"Wait, wait!"

Fred stopped, snapped his mouth shut, and turned his gaze to his younger brother. Ron looked even more irritated than before - and, to be honest, maybe just a little bit shaken by the story. Which was good, but he didn't know the half of it yet. "So, did he?" Ron demanded, shifting slightly, and leaned forward a little bit to narrow his eyes at Fred. "Did he tell Mom?"

"No," Molly spoke before Fred could, a scowl written across her face. "No, he did not."

"Yet, he tells on _me_-"

"But he should have," Fred emphasized, "told on me, as well, and if you would actually _let me tell the damn story _you would see why!" Ron snapped his mouth shut, his mother sank back, and Percy quirked an eyebrow at Fred with an almost impressed gaze as if asking him how he managed to render both of them silent at once.

* * *

_George was awake, sitting up in his bed, when Fred apparated into the room. He was completely worn out - he'd stayed for a good three hours after George had left, "getting his fill in" as Lee had called it, before he would probably be forced to stop for good. He was exhausted._

_The light flipped on the second he appeared, and he flinched away slightly in surprise. He didn't have much time to react, though, before George was on his feet and in front of him, pulling his jacket off himself and checking the pockets with a frown. Fred stumbled back, gripping the desk behind him, and stared at his brother with a mixture of disbelief and confusion written across his face. "Uh, Georgie-?"_

"_I didn't tell Mom," George muttered, tossing the jacket back over to him. "But I did take the liberty of dumping out every bottle of alcohol you had hidden here." Fred opened his mouth to respond, but George held a hand up before he could. "Freddie, really, this has gone on long enough…"_

"_Who're you to decide that?" Fred groaned, pushing himself away from the desk to head over to his bed. "And my- my alcohol, man? All I had here was red wine n' stuff, s'not like it's a big-"_

"_Fred, it __**is**_ _a big deal!" George's hand closed around his wrist, pulling him to a stop. Fred paused, looking up, and his eyes narrowed faintly as he turned slowly to face his brother. "You don't think so, I know, but it is," George insisted. "And I'm sorry, Freddie, I am. But you can't- you can't live like this anymore, can't you see what you're doing to yourself? You're addicted-"_

"_And here we go again!" Fred jerked away, making George stumble slightly, but the other twin steadied himself rather quickly. "'You're addicted, Freddie'- No, I'm not! I can stop any time I want to, alright? I just don't want to!"_

"_Well, you're going to!" George snapped back, taking a few steps forward. "Because I'm not letting you do this to yourself anymore, okay? I mean, I- I've sat here, and watched you turn yourself into- into this, and for what? I want my brother back!"_

"_Oh, piss off, would you?" Fred groaned. "It's not like I've gone anywhere. And if you really wanted to, y'know, y'could come __**with **__me to the bar, but-"_

"_Freddie I didn't even know where you were," George hissed, his voice shaking, "do you have any idea what that feels like? Do you have any idea what I would do, what would happen if something happened to you, if you-" He broke off, taking a deep breath, and Fred's eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he looked at his twin._

"_Y'overreactin' again," he mumbled. "I'm not goin' anywhere, Georgie."_

"_Then prove it," George demanded, taking a few steps forward and reaching out to grab Fred's wrist. "Prove it to me right now and promise me that you'll never drink again-"_

"_I don' have to prove __**anything **__to you!"_

_What happened next, neither brother was expecting. It was a split-second decision, in the moment, and it was quite possibly the worst moment of Fred's life. He couldn't speak for George, not after everything that had happened recently, but Fred would regret this moment forever._

_He lashed out, grabbing his brother by the front of his shirt, and shoved him back as hard as possible, sending him stumbling straight toward the desk._

_George fell back hard against it, flinching as he did, but somehow managed to keep himself steady. Fred blinked and went completely still, realizing exactly what had just happened, what he'd just done. All of the apologies in the world couldn't make up for it, there was nothing he could do to take away the hurt in his brother's eyes, but damn if he didn't try. _

"_Georgie-" Fred choked out, rushing forward. His twin wasn't hurt badly, as far as he could tell - not physically anyway. He didn't flinch when Fred approached, though he did cringe a little when Fred pulled him away from the desk - probably because his back had been pressed up against it rather harshly up until then, it probably hurt a lot more than George was letting on. "Oh, Merlin's beard, I- I didn't mean to-"_

"_I know you didn't, Freddie," George mumbled, shifting slightly, and wrapped his arm around his brother's to grab onto his shoulder and force them both steady. "But this is exactly what I mean."_

_Fred just shook his head, completely speechless at his own actions._

* * *

Fred paused for a second, a cold rush flushing through him. He shivered a bit, going still, and stopped talking for a good few moments. Then, after a moment, swallowing hard, he continued, ignoring the confused and worried looks from Ron, Percy and his mother as he went on.

* * *

_George pulled them both down onto his bed and, without another word, he pulled Fred into his arms. Fred wrapped his own arms around his twin just as tightly, burying his face into his shoulder, and George did the same with a soft, shaky sigh, and a whispered, "you have to stop."_

"_I can't…" Fred mumbled, screwing his eyes shut tighter than ever. "I can't…"_

"_You __**can**__," George insisted, pulling away again. He kept his hands on Fred's shoulders, looking him right in the eyes. "Who knows what could happen next time, Freddie? Someone could get hurt. Me, or you, or anyone," he pressed, and Fred dropped his gaze. George gave his shoulders a firm shake, forcing him to meet his gaze again. "Fred, promise me. Promise me you'll let me help you."_

_Fred nodded, wordlessly. But he didn't have to say anything; And that was the amazing thing with the two of them. No words were really necessary when it came to the twins. George pulled him back into the hug with a soft, relieved sigh, and Fred just held on as tightly as he could. _

_They stayed like that for the rest of the night. And Fred never touched another bottle of alcohol. Neither brother was hurt badly enough that night, physically or otherwise, for it to have been unfixable. But the thought of something happening between them, the thought of making a mistake that he __**couldn't **__fix, was enough to scare Fred away from another bar - Diagon Alley or otherwise - for the rest of his life._

_Nothing was worth that. Nothing._

* * *

"Drinking isn't a game," Fred spoke firmly as he brought his story to a close, turning to face Ron and looking down at him through narrowed eyes. "It's not a joke, or a contest, or something you can just do because you're seventeen and Mum's rules don't matter anymore." He paused, taking a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "And it's not something you can do to spare yourself a little emotional pain. _Nothing _is worth that, Ronald."

Ron was silent, staring at his hands. But there was a spark of understanding in his gaze now, Fred was beyond satisfied to see. He relaxed, visibly, then moved forward and reached down to pull Ron to his feet, tugging him into a firm hug. His younger brother hugged him back just as tightly, silently burying his face into Fred's shoulder, and he gave a small squeeze. "We're here for you, Ron," he murmured. "No matter what. You don't need to resort to… to _that_." He pulled back, looking his brother in the eyes. "Please."

Ron nodded and mumbled a quiet, "okay."

"Good." Fred was smiling again now, as he squeezed his younger brother's shoulders lightly before pulling away. "Stupid git, worrying the whole family. We oughta lock you in the basement until you've learned your lesson, you know," he joked, and Ron cracked a small smile, seeming more relieved than anything that Fred wasn't pissed off anymore.

"Believe me, I'm close," their mother huffed, then suddenly reached out and smacked Fred's shoulder, albeit lightly. "And you, young man, how come I never heard about any of that?!"

"Because neither of us wanted you to know," Fred replied innocently, blinking a few times and tilting his head at his mother with a bright smile. "Wasn't that obvious? Also, woman-" He rubbed his shoulder and stuck his tongue out at her, "that _hurt_."

"Well you'd better hope I don't do worse!" His mother huffed. Bill started laughing into his arms, slightly muffled, still stretched out on his stomach the floor. Percy just grinned to himself and shook his head, checking his watch and letting out a low, quiet hum as he shouldered himself away from the wall and cracked his knuckles with a sigh.

"S'pose we should get back to work, then." He eyed Fred. "I can't believe you took two hours to get to the point of that story."

"Details are important!" Fred retorted with a roll of his eyes. "Besides, I'd like to see you spin a more believable tale with less details than that. It wasn't as if I didn't leave a few things out, but I told what was important. Excuse me for trying to save our brother's soul."

"Well-"

Percy cut off, and they all jumped, when Charlie apparated into the castle. He was a complete mess, his hair ruffled, eyes wide with alarm, face paler than usual and his entire body shaking. However, Fred's gaze didn't linger on him for long. Instead, his eyes found the person Charlie was _holding_, instead.

"He won't wake up," Charlie was gasping, breathless, "he won't wake up, he just- he fell, just out of the blue and now he's not waking up and I don't know what to-"

"George-" His mother choked out, already moving forward.

"Georgie!" Fred shot forward at once, careful not to shove his mother aside in the process, but he rushed past her - admittedly floating a bit to go even faster, but it was for a good cause, not really cheating - and reached his brothers in an instant. Charlie looked beyond startled to see him, but Fred hardly let him get a word in as he reached for George, pulling him out of Charlie's arms and into his own so he could check his pulse. "George?"

George shifted, groaned, and went completely still again with a short, heavy sigh, his head rolling over and his face burying into Fred's shoulder.

Fred didn't know whether to be relieved that he was alive, or even more worried that he wasn't waking up. He shook his brother a few times, getting nothing more than a few groans and huffs, and George did stir slightly on occasion, but it never went further than that. He wasn't waking up any time soon, that much was clear.

"Is he alright?" His mother demanded as she stopped beside them, reaching out to brush George's hair from his face. Fred stared down at his brother, eyebrows furrowing wordlessly as he let his eyes flicker across his face, taking in every feature, every detail, every hint of emotion in his expression. He was just asleep, for sure - he didn't seem to be in any kind of pain, just… exhausted, and maybe even a little more than physically.

Fred didn't respond to his mother, just pulled George closer, never taking his gaze off of his brother's face, and held him as tightly as he possibly could.


	10. Chapter 10

George woke up in a bed, warmer than ever, his entire body aching and his eyes practically glued shut. And for a good two minutes after he had woken up, he couldn't even open them. Every attempt hurt, immediately causing him to shut his eyes again as tightly as possible to avoid the pain that it caused to keep them open. The room was empty, as far as he could tell, though he couldn't see anything. It felt oddly familiar, too - not the same way it did when he was at home, though, and in the brief glances he had gotten when he finally managed to open his eyes for a few seconds at a time to look around, he'd gotten a faint glimpse of golden and red before he had to close his eyes again, too exhausted to keep them open for long.

He thought he heard someone calling his name, a familiar voice, but one that he couldn't quite place. And while he wanted to open his eyes again to see who it was, the exhaustion won over, the pain too much for another attempt. He shifted and cringed, his body aching even further with the movement, with the effort it took to move. So he just sighed and sank back again, laying completely still. He felt something brush against his head - something cold and heavy, it felt like, and a part of him wanted to tell whoever it was to fuck off, because the touch hurt like all hell against his throbbing skin. But he had barely parted his lips before the exhaustion won over.

His dreams, at least, were nothing but empty darkness. No flashes of his brother's face, he couldn't hear his voice echoing through his head. No nightmares, no dreams. It was peaceful enough that he relaxed into it with ease, letting it take over, letting himself go. And for the longest time it felt like he was floating, those few seconds just before he lost consciousness. And it was everything, to him, at least, those few seconds were. And then he was gone again.

The second time he was pulled from the peacefulness of his dreamless sleep, the hand on his forehead came the second he managed to blink open his eyes. His vision was blurry, but he caught a glimpse of red hair before his eyes slid shut again. But then, that could have been anybody. He heard his name again, that familiar voice he couldn't quite place, and yet at the same time his heart skipped a beat when he heard it. In the familiar way it usually did when someone said _his _name, or when he thought of his twin, or when he caught his own reflection in a mirror and thought for a split second that it was him.

Needless to say, his good mood from his sweet sleep was immediately soured after that. But he didn't have the chance to open his eyes and see who was _really _there - because, come on, honestly, it couldn't have been _him_, right? - before he was drifting off again.

This time he thought he heard the voice again, more frantically this time, before he gave in to the darkness. But he wasn't sure. Again, there were no dreams, no nightmares. Just him, floating along in the darkness, peaceful as ever and aching even further, begging for that peaceful feeling to stay. It felt too good, just letting himself float along like that, just letting himself go. It was the best sleep he had had in a while, he didn't want it to end so soon.

But, alas, he would wake up again for the third time. And this time was a lot different. While he was still aching, and his eyes still hurt, it was much easier to keep them open.

At first, he saw nothing except golden and red. His gaze roamed around, blinking a few times, closing his eyes every so often before forcing them open again. He just vaguely recognized his old Hogwarts dorm, the one he shared with Lee Jordan and… well, his twin. It looked so old now, and a bit different, some of the furniture rearranged… George shifted slightly and pulled his arms back a bit, pressing his hands into the bed behind him to push himself up. No time to really register what he was even doing in Hogwarts, or that Charlie might have brought him there. One thing he did register was that he wasn't in the bed that had been _his_ during his stay in the Gryffindor dormitories, and this he knew very well because the carving on one of the bedposts read, clearly, _FW._

The familiar ache in his chest was back, struggling not to remember what that stood for, to not think the name because it would hurt that much worse. He didn't want to be there - he wanted to be back at home, in his own bed. With his cat. Trying, struggling not to look around the room, to think back on the memories that came with it, he pulled himself to sit up completely and turned to swing his legs over the side of the bed and stand up. It took him a second, gripping onto one of the bedposts, to regain his balance, keeping himself upright. It was harder than he thought it would be, to steady himself; his legs felt like they just might give away at any given second, and he wasn't exactly prepared to crash to the ground right then, in any case, as weak as he felt.

He struggled for a few more moments before he managed to turn to the door. What he wasn't expecting, however, was for it to swing open the second he had turned. But the most unexpected thing at that moment was who stood there when the door had opened completely, who was walking in. Going against everything he had tried to teach himself not to do, his brain struggled against him for the longest time, aching, his brother's name just barely lingering at the back of his mind. But it was enough, though he was struggling not to really think it, to make him ache all over. Because logically he knew it couldn't really be his twin in front of him. He was either dreaming or hallucinating, one of the two, because _he _was _dead_.

His brother paused in the doorway, eyes flickering up at once. The second his eyes met his twin's, he felt sicker than ever - genuinely ready to throw up right then and there. A look of relief flashed across his brother's face, but George's expression didn't change that much, aside from a rush of tears that had begun to brew in his eyes the second he had locked his gaze on his twin, the second the door had opened. And for the longest time, neither of them moved; George just gripped the bedpost a little tighter, leaning his weight against it to keep himself upright, and his brother simply stood in the doorway, hands at his sides - floating about an inch off of the ground and holding George's gaze in complete silence.

He stepped forward, and George flinched, completely unprepared for this entire interaction. His dreams had been amazingly blank up until this moment, why couldn't that have continued? Or was he really awake, just going insane? Had it gotten to the point of hallucinating? He felt numb as the thoughts spun through his head, numb as he stared at his brother, numb until his hands came up onto either side of his face, thumbs gently rubbing away the tears that had fallen.

"Alright, Georgie, don't cry," his brother spoke, softly, and George felt the tears rush back to his eyes. They were rubbed away again, as his twin took a few more steps forward, dropping his hands to George's shoulders instead and squeezing softly. "Hey, I thought you'd be a little happier to see me, eh? Not crying." He tilted his head, his gaze never leaving George's. Torn between laughing and crying further, George could only stare back at him in silence, his entire body shaking as he struggled, aching to wake up already. But then again it couldn't have been a dream, otherwise he wouldn't be wanting to wake up. After all, he never realized he was dreaming until the dream had ended. The disappointment came in the morning, the pain.

_So maybe it's not a dream_, his thoughts nagged at him, but then, George had absolutely no idea what was happening. Was he dead, was that it? Not knowing what to think, or how to react, George just shook his head and lifted his hands to rub his own tears away. His brother pulled back only for a second, to give him enough room to do that, before his hands returned to George's shoulders once more the second he had dropped his own hands to his sides.

"I know, it must be very shocking," his brother murmured, a soft smile lingering on his lips as he winked at George, "but I didn't expect you to be in such low spirits, brother." As he spoke, his form flickered; He faded a little, suddenly transparent, and the gentle touch on George's shoulders faded to nothing, though he hadn't even moved his hands. And then he was solid again, the touch was back, and his brother was grinning ear to ear as he waited for George to register, either the joke or the situation. He realized both at the same time, too stunned to even laugh at the little pun, but feeling a little less lost, a little less terrified.

It took a while for him to finally be able to speak, his voice choked and the word taking every bit of his strength as he finally managed to spit it out. "_Fred_?" His voice faltered as he spoke his brother's name, for the first time since the incident, since his brother had died. More tears rushed to his eyes, but his brother - _Fred_ \- rubbed them away before they could spill. Then, in complete silence, he pulled George into a tight hug.

It took a good few seconds before George could wrap his arms around Fred in response, but when he did, the sheer force in which he held onto his brother would have killed Fred if he hadn't already been dead in the first place.

A sudden chuckle from Fred caught him by surprise, as did the sudden rush of warmth. The warmth he hadn't felt in so long, too long; it had just stopped, so abruptly, when his brother had died. It was different from the warmth he felt even with Nox, with the rest of his family. It was softer, yet stronger, and it brought an instinctive grin to his face. And before he knew it, he was laughing as well - both of them were.

"You have absolutely _no_ idea…" Fred breathed, finally pulling away, but he kept his arms wrapped around his brother as he offered him his usually charming grin. His eyes sparkled with tears of his own, which George immediately reached up to rub away himself.

"How much I've _missed _you," he finished breathlessly, his smile faltering for only a second. But it stayed, genuine, wider than ever since the night of the battle. Fred beamed back at him in silence before pulling him into another bone-crushing hug, and George held on just as tightly, burying his face into his brother's shoulder and letting out a soft laugh.

They stayed like that for a while, only pulling apart when George started to sway slightly where he stood, clearly still exhausted. Fred immediately pushed him down onto the bed, taking a seat beside him and curling his legs up onto the bed along with him. And, after a few seconds, he suddenly reached out and promptly smacked his brother across the back of his head. George winced, faintly, bringing a hand up at once to cover his head and giving his twin a look of pure betrayal. "Alright, _ow_, Freddie…"

Merlin's beard, it felt so weird, saying that name again after so long of trying to avoid even _thinking _it.

"You, complete, idiotic git," Fred huffed, dropping his hand back to the bed and eyeing his brother. "Sleep deprivation, of all the things that would keep you down, _sleep deprivation_! And this from you, no less, the one who had to convince _me _to sleep when Lee Jordan dared me to stay awake for an entire month straight-"

"-for a mere pack of chocolate frogs, as well," George added, wrinkling his nose slightly at the memory with a small shake of his head.

"And even then, I never got to the point where I _went unconscious_." Fred leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at his brother. George just fell silent, staring at him. And, despite himself, a very faint smile began tugging at his lips again. Dream or not, hallucination or not, for just that moment, it was all worth it. And it felt so _real_, in any case. And George was willing - or maybe he was just desperate - to believe that it was. Fred raised an eyebrow at him, obviously catching the smile, and it seemed that he couldn't hold his stern facade for long because his lips were twitching slightly now, fighting his own grin. "What?"

"It's just really great to see you, Freddie," George murmured after a second, and Fred's smile warmed even further. He reached out, placing a hand on his twin's shoulder, and offered a small squeeze in response. George leaned into the touch with a soft sigh, closing his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again. "As for sleep deprivation, I _am _sorry, and I can say with certainty that it was…"

"One of the more stupid things you've ever done," Fred cut in, raising his eyebrows slightly, and George's lips twitched slightly, fighting back a grin as he shook his head.

"But I couldn't, Freddie." George fell silent for a moment, his smile faltering for a longer time, this time, as he glanced away from his twin. "I really couldn't."

Fred didn't say anything. He moved his hand from George's shoulder, though, to wrap his arm around his brother instead, pulling him sideways against him with a soft sigh. George shifted a little, pulling his legs up onto the bed beside him, and buried the side of his head into his twin's shoulder with a soft hum. They stayed like that for a while, Fred holding him close and George's face buried into his shoulder, eyes shut, more at ease, more peaceful, than he had felt in a really long time. Both of the twins were rather content at that moment. No more words exchanged - no laughter, or jokes, not right now. Just silence. Soft, comfortable silence.

And when George began falling asleep again, Fred allowed him to shift over to stretch out across his lap, the back of his head resting against his brother's leg and Fred's hand now resting on his chest, the other one on his forehead. George reached up, quietly wrapping his fingers around the wrist of the hand Fred had settled on his chest, the other one wrapping around him and gripping the back of his shirt as he shifted a little and closed his eyes again.

"Will you…"

"I will," Fred spoke, softly, and brushed his thumb over George's forehead to pull some of his hair out of his face. "Get some rest."

George let out a low chuckle and cracked his eyes open, looking up at his brother for a few seconds before finally letting his eyes drift shut again. And, after just a few seconds he had fallen asleep again, eyes shut, breathing peacefully, a ghost of a smile lingering on his face.

Fred leaned his head back against one of the bedposts, watching his brother for a while, before finally shutting his own eyes and letting himself drift off with the same expression, content.

* * *

When George woke up, he was faintly surprised to find the two of them laying down, arms still wrapped around each other, a blanket covering them both and Fred's head tucked under his chin, face buried into the crook of his neck. He was curled up against him tightly, humming every so often in his sleep and letting out soft, content sighs, as he had always used to. For a moment, just lying there, George could still hardly believe this was happening at all. He wasn't sure what he had expected when he had opened his eyes - maybe for the dream to come to an end. But this wasn't a dream, was it? Not this time…

He found himself chuckling for no real reason, though he was trying to suppress the laughter as much as possible to keep from disturbing his brother.

But, it was much too late for that. Fred was already stirring, and he seemed to pull George even closer in those few seconds that he lingered just in between the line of unconsciousness and consciousness as he buried his face deeper into the crook of George's neck.

"Georgie?" He mumbled, after a few seconds, and George took a moment to relish the warmth that he felt, hearing his nickname coming from _that _voice, the one that he ached and longed for far too much, for far too long. He sighed a little, as Fred finally stirred again and pulled away, blinking blearily a few times and peering up at his twin through narrowed, tired eyes. George just grinned down at him, his mouth forming the smile before he had time to register it - and he marveled at that, how effortlessly it seemed to come now.

"Didn't know ghosts needed sleep, Freddie," he commented after a moment, twisting slightly to sit up as Fred fell back onto the bed with nothing more than a groan of protest, hands covering his face. George glanced back at him and rolled his eyes slightly, pulling his legs up over the side of the bed and rubbing his hands over his eyes. "Did you get enough… boo-ty sleep?"

Silence followed, just for a few seconds, before Fred started snickering. George grinned a little, glancing back at his brother as Fred stretched out across the bed, reaching his arms up and grabbing one of the pillows to throw at George. "That was ridiculously pathetic, brother."

George hummed a little, ducking before the pillow could hit him. "Oh, have a heart, huh?" He smirked at Fred, who reached up again, groping empty air as he struggled to find another pillow to throw at his twin. "I thought that was pretty good." Fred just snorted as he finally pushed himself to sit up, stretching again with a sigh and shifting to sit beside his brother once more. George let out a hum, leaning over slightly and resting his head against his twin's, and Fred put his head on top of George's in response, letting out a quiet sigh.

"We should probably…"

"Go brave the real world," Fred noted, letting out a slight chuckle. George smiled a little, that bubbly feeling returning to his chest, but he didn't laugh. After a few moments, yawning, Fred pulled away and hopped up, turning and floating backwards through the air as he looked down at his twin. "You good to walk, or do you want me to carry you?" He teased.

"I'm not a _baby_, Freddie." George wrinkled his nose at his brother, pushing himself to stand. Fred stuck his tongue out in response, finally bringing a snicker from George's lips. "You, on the other hand… are a complete child, brother."

"I'm a kid at heart," Fred replied smugly. "The trick is to grow up without growing old."

"You'll be doing neither anytime soon," George countered, balancing himself on one of the bed rails and glancing toward the door. He was still exhausted as all hell, but he felt much better than he had in a while. And that was certainly the last time he went so long without sleeping, as well… the wizard shook his head, shuffling over to Fred without quite letting go of the bed rail. His twin swooped down, as if on cue, lightly looping his arm with George's and giving a slight squeeze to let him know that he could hold him steady.

He'd always been able to hold George steady.

The man's lips twitched, letting go of the rail and squeezing his brother's arm back in response. "Are Mum and the others-"

"-still here? Indeed, they are. Wouldn't leave without making sure you were okay, the worry warts. Even Percy - actually, I think he was the first one to set up camp in the dorms," Fred admitted musingly, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he lowered himself to the ground beside his brother, turning the rest of his body solid again in order to walk next to him.

George blinked at that, shifting slightly to lean some of his weight against his brother. Fred just continued on his way toward the door, not seeming to mind. "How long have I been…" He trailed off, and Fred paused for a second in the doorway, his eyes darting back to his twin in response. He only managed a tiny, sympathetic smile before looking ahead again, shrugging with a sigh.

"Three days. Four, actually, I think…" He trailed off, shooting George a side glance. "You were really tired, Georgie." The ghost frowned a little, and George gave his arm another squeeze, an attempt to reassure him. He hadn't meant to worry any of them - especially Fred, whom he hadn't even realized he had the ability to worry anymore… but, at the same time, he was kind of glad things had turned out like this. He certainly wouldn't have ended up here, at Hogwarts, while he was actually, consciously making his own decisions, anyway…

"Well," George cleared his throat, giving his brother's arm a tug. "Shall we?"

Fred quirked an eyebrow at him, and grinned slightly, his eyes suddenly alight with the familiar mischief that George had yearned for. "Oh, we shall, brother."


End file.
